


Teen Wolf Infantilism One-Shots

by GentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Diapers, Forced infantilism, Infantilism, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Sexual Age Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Submission, Tumblr Prompt, consensual infantilism, forced age play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/GentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts taken from Tumblr, etc. Some from the Daddy's Baby Boy universe and some original prompts. Warnings and summaries in the notes for each chapter. All stories are infantilism, both con and non-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daddy's Baby Boy-Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: I would love to see the babies getting in trouble that is actually just little boy trouble, like not based on trying to escape, maybe they wanted to go on a real treasure hunt or something. I thought it would be cute because their parents will know when they find them they're just happy little boys who got into mischief  
>  (I hope this is in the vein you wanted, prompter! I kind of took it and ran with it)  
>  Takes place in the Daddy's Baby Boy universe (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6035608/chapters/13840198), a few months after the events of Chapter 12 (Stiles' regression).  
>  No warnings apply.

Stiles loves, loves, loves playdates. The very best are when Danny and Jackson both come over, like today, and then can play and play for hours. 

They can get pretty loud so Daddy and Jackson’s Daddy and Daddy’s Mommy usually talk about grown-up things in another room while the boys play. They have their super wolf hearing so if the babies start fighting or need something they can come running super quick. 

Today Jackson wants to play hide-and-seek. They’re not allowed to go up the stairs so there aren’t a lot of places to hide. Daddy walks into the kitchen and sees Stiles trying to wedge himself into the cabinet under the sink. He smiles. “I don’t think you’ll fit there, little boy.” 

“Sh, Daddy, I’m hiding!” 

Daddy pretends to zip his lips. Stiles gets in and shuts the cabinet door tightly. It’s kind of dark in here and it smells yucky. He tries to ignore it but he forgot he doesn’t like small spaces. After a few minutes it starts to get unbearable. Winning this round doesn’t matter, he wants to get out. He tries to move but the space is too small, he’s stuck! 

His heart starts to race and he draws in a breath to scream for Daddy, but before he can Daddy opens the cabinet and pulls Stiles out. He hugs Stiles tightly, kissing his cheek. “Okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Daddy’s got you.” 

Stiles sighs and relaxes into Daddy’s arms. Of course Daddy would know he needed help. “Thank you, Daddy.” 

“Daddy has a much better hiding spot for you.” Daddy carries him into the living room and puts him on the couch, then puts a blanket over him. Stiles giggles as Daddy sits down on top of him. “No little boys in here,” Daddy says loudly. “Oh, but I’ve got such a nice, cozy seat, I think I might take a nap.” 

Stiles can’t stop giggling, even when he hears Jackson run into the room. “Alpha Hale, is Stiles here?” 

“Stiles? Hm, I don’t think I’ve seen Stiles in a _long_ time. I’m just enjoying this cozy couch.” Daddy wiggles on top of Stiles, making Stiles shriek with laughter. Jackson pulls back the blanket and grins. “I finded you!” 

Stiles wriggles out. Danny’s already been found, that means Stiles is the winner. Daddy gives him a kiss and goes back to talk with the other grown-ups. 

“There aren’t enough good hiding places,” Danny complains. “We should play outside.” 

Stiles perks up. It’s nice outside, and he knows just where to find a good hiding spot: behind the big tree in Uncle Boyd and Aunt Erica’s yard. “Okay!” 

He doesn’t even think about telling Daddy, because sometimes he forgets that Daddy is in charge and little boys don’t make decisions for themselves. He runs to the front door with Jackson and Danny and opens it. The sun feels nice and warm on his face, just as nice as it felt this morning when Daddy took him for a walk in his stroller. He closes the door quietly because Daddy said it’s not nice to slam door. “Hide on thee,” he says. ‘One…two…three!” 

They split off and run. In their excitement about being outside, they forget that they didn’t decide who was “It.” 

Stiles finds his tree and hides behind it. There’s a caterpillar on the ground and he watches it, enthralled, so absorbed it takes him a second to realize that the shadow of the tree is changing. He looks up and realizes the whole yard is going dark. Uh-oh. The sun must be going down. 

Jackson better find him soon. Or wait…maybe Danny? Stiles’ heart sinks. Oh, no, they never decided who was it. Danny and Jackson must be waiting for Stiles to find them! 

He shoots up and looks around frantically, but he can’t see them anywhere. He looks towards the woods, feeling sick to his tummy. What if they went to go hide in there? Little boys aren’t supposed to go into the woods alone! 

“Danny?” he calls in a whisper. He doesn’t want to be any louder and have Daddy hear him, his friends will get into trouble. “J-Jackson?” 

There’s no answer. Stiles doesn’t know what to do. If he goes to get Daddy, Jackson and Danny will be punished and maybe they won’t be able to come play anymore. He has to find his friends and sneak back into the house before Daddy even knows they were gone. 

He has to go into the woods. 

He’s been scared of the woods ever since Theo took him there, but he reminds himself that the Nemeton is in the woods and knows he’s Daddy’s little boy. It’ll keep him safe, maybe it’ll even help him finds his friends. He hurries into the woods, hoping with all his might Daddy hasn’t realized yet that he’s gone. 

X 

Derek loves taking care of Stiles, but sometimes it’s nice to have a break and enjoy some grown-up talk. The boys are playing happily in the other room. He hasn’t heard any little voices for a few minutes now so whoever is “it” must be counting. 

Jordan is talking about Jackson’s regression period, which ended about two months ago; how he’s been such a perfect little boy ever since. Derek is engrossed— he’s been dreaming about regressing Stiles for a while now— and doesn’t even realize when the sun starts to set. 

“Oh,” Danny’s mommy says in surprise, having been just as enthralled. “I guess it’s time to head.” She raises her voice. “Danny! We’re going home, sweetie.” 

There’s no answer. 

“Jackie!” Jordan calls. “Come here.” 

Nothing. Derek frowns and tries to find Stiles’ heartbeat, realizing with horror that there’s nothing. The babies aren’t in the house anymore. 

“Shit,” Jordan says, coming to the same conclusion as Derek. “I wasn’t even paying attention—” 

Derek runs to the front door and yanks it open, hoping against hope he’ll see Stiles in the front yard. The entire block is completely silent. “Stiles Hale!” he thunders. “Daddy wants you to come here _right now!_ ” 

There’s no response. Derek can’t believe it. Things had been going so well, Stiles had been fully regressed. Derek hadn’t even imagined he might run away. “They ran,” he says softly. 

“It can’t be,” Danny’s mommy, Cecelia, says. “Danny’s been here for almost three years. He wouldn’t have. He’s fully regressed, he loves me, he wouldn’t _dream_ …” 

“They must have gone into the woods,” Derek says tightly. “If they get to the border fence, or if there are any wolves hunting out there—” The words choke off. He doesn’t even want to think about it. He should have taken a few extra minutes with Stiles this morning, given him a bigger cuddle after his diaper change or let him have pudding after his lunch like he wanted. Who knows what gets into the mind of a little boy like him and subtly undoes all of Derek's hard work? 

Jordan looks just as sick as Derek, as if the thought of Jackson running away had never even occurred to him before. “Jackson!” he roars. “You come to Daddy this _instant!_ ” 

Just then they hear a tremulous, “Daddy?” 

Derek whips his head around, but it isn’t Stiles. It’s Jackson, looking tiny and terrified. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” 

“Jackson,” Jordan groans, rushing to the little boy and grabbing him up in a hug. “Where were you? What on earth were you thinking?” 

“W-we were playing hide and seek and Danny said let's go outside and Stiles said yeah and we were hiding but nobody ever came to find me and I thought I was winning so I didn’t come out— ” 

“You never should have gone out of the house without telling me!” Jordan looks at Derek and smiles, still looking pale. He hugs his little boy close. “It’s fine. They were just playing. The others must be hiding around here somewhere.” 

Derek isn’t convinced. Maybe Jackson and Danny are just playing, but Stiles has been here a much shorter time than they have. He might be on the run alone. “Stiles!” he shouts again, hearing his voice echo. 

Cecilia joins him. “ _Danny!_ ” 

Derek tries to focus as best he can and hears a human heartbeat. “I’ve got one of them.” He tries to track without shifting, moving with his eyes closed until the heartbeat is nice and loud. Cecelia is behind him, focusing too. “Here,” Derek says, coming to a stop and turning a circle. They’re next to a car and he drops to his knees, peering beneath it to see Danny, curled up on the ground under the car and sound asleep. 

“Oh, thank God.” Cecelia pulls him out, making him squeak in surprise as he wakes up. “Daniel, you are in so much trouble, young man!” 

“Mommy?” Danny yawns sweetly. “Did I win?” 

Derek feels a thick, ugly panic in his chest. Where is Stiles? He can’t have been foolish enough to go onto Deucalion’s territory, surely, but if he was trying to run away he wouldn’t go towards Carol’s land, either. The only place he would run… 

Derek’s gaze falls on the woods and his heart sinks. 

_Shit._

X 

Stiles thinks he might be in trouble. 

He’s been wandering around out here _forever_ , calling for his friends over and over. Nobody answers. He thinks maybe they aren’t out here anymore. He’s all alone in the woods, and he doesn’t know the way back. 

He sniffles and pressing the backs of his fists to his eyes so he won’t cry. He wants Daddy. There has to be some way out of here. He tries to remember the path Daddy takes him on when they visit the Nemeton. 

His heart leaps. The Nemeton! It’s got magic that can show him the way home. He has to find the Nemeton. It’s his friend, it will help him. He just has to look for the green glow and listen for the hum. 

He squints into the darkness and picks a direction. 

Twenty minutes later he feels worse than ever. He can’t find the Nemeton and it’s so dark he can’t see. He’s shaking, both because it’s cold out and he’s scared. This is giving him bad memories to when Theo had him. 

When that happened all he had to do was yell for Daddy and Daddy came right away. Maybe he should do that again. Daddy might be mad at him for going outside, but right now he just wants to go home. 

Before he can decide he hears a loud sound, like a groan. “ _Stiles!_ ” 

“Daddy!” Stiles almost sobs with relief. He opens his arms and Daddy snatches him up, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” 

“God, Stiles, what were you doing?” Daddy sounds funny, like his voice is all choked. “Why were you running away?” 

Stiles is shocked. Running away? Why would he do something silly like that? “Wasn’t running away, Daddy! We were playing hide and seek and I couldn’t find Danny and Jackson, so I thought they ran into the woods and I just wanted to find them.” He shudders, horrified at the idea that Daddy thought he would be such a bad little boy and try to run away, he hasn’t done that for months and months. “Wouldn’t ever run away from my Daddy. Promise!” 

Daddy stares at him for a moment, then relaxes and kisses his cheek. “You don’t ever go outside without Daddy,” he scolds. 

“I know, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Stiles sniffles, he hates being in trouble. “Wanna go home, Daddy.” 

“Okay, baby. We’ll go home. You have to spend five minutes in the naughty corner for breaking the rules and scaring Daddy so badly…but after _that_ Daddy is going to cuddle you for about an hour.” Daddy nuzzles him, kissing him all over his cheeks. “My sweet boy, you scared me half to death.” 

“I was scared too, Daddy,” Stiles says tragically. “It’s dark!” 

“I know, my poor baby. Let’s go home.” 

By the time they get back Danny and Jackson are sitting in the living room, chagrined. “W-we can still play together, right?” Danny hiccups. 

“You can still play together,” Jordan answers sternly. “But no going outside without a Mommy or Daddy. Stiles could have been seriously hurt in the woods.” He frowns at Jackson. “We’re going to have to tell Mommy about this.” 

Stiles is glad he doesn’t have a Mommy, then he’d get _two_ punishments. He says bye-bye to his friends and then has to sit in the naughty corner for forever. He doesn’t like the naughty corner, he doesn’t get to take any of his toys there. 

“All done,” Daddy says after a long time, lifting him back out. “Did you learn your lesson?” 

“Uh-huh. No going outside without Daddy.” 

“That’s right.” Daddy sighs. “I liked it better when you were only crawling. Give Daddy a kiss.” 

Stiles gives Daddy a big kiss on the cheek. He feels funny, like he has something important to say. Little boys don’t say important things, he knows, that’s for grown-ups, but he has to try. “Wouldn’t ever run away from Daddy,” he says shyly, nuzzling against Daddy’s stubble. “Daddy always finds me when I’m scared. That’s why my Daddy is the best Daddy. I love Daddy lots and lots, promise.” 

Daddy smiles at him and shifts him so he’s in his favorite spot, right in Daddy’s lap so Daddy can hug him to his chest. “And Daddy loves you lots and lots, baby boy. Daddy loves you the _most_. More than ice cream, or naps, or rainbows, or _tickles_ …” Daddy tickles his tummy, making Stiles shriek happily. He loves tickles! “And Daddy will always find his little prince, no matter what.” 

Stiles feels much better now. He snuggles into Daddy’s lap, deciding he’s tired and ready for his bedtime story. “Beddy-bye?” he asks hopefully. 

“Oh my, _asking_ for bedtime. Someone’s trying to be good as gold, isn’t he?” Daddy gives him one more kiss and stands up. “Beddy-bye it is.” 

As he’s carried upstairs, Stiles spares one more thought to how silly it would be to try and run away from Daddy. Daddy gives him everything and takes such good care of him. Running away would be so _silly_. He giggles at the thought of it and closes his eyes, feeling safe and warm as Daddy carries him to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts open: http://gentlywithachainsawa03.tumblr.com/


	2. Daddy's Baby Boy--Scott/Kira & Lydia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of Daddy's Baby Boy there was some discussion about just who was the little girl Scott and Kira adopted. I'll admit that I pictured Allison, but I ended up liking both ideas, so here's one way it could have played out (assume that Lydia is not the red-headed Mommy of Jackson in the rest of the story).  
> Lot's of non-con touching here, non-sexual but still traumatizing for Lydia.  
> Coming soon, the version where Allison is the baby!

Lydia wakes up with a jolt. Her heart is beating too fast, as if she’s just escaped something terrible in her dreams. She has to stop herself from whimpering aloud, she doesn’t want _them_ to hear. 

Of all the indignities and the horrors she’s meant to suffer, the sleeping arrangements are among the worst. Every night she’s strapped down in a bassinet, large enough to accommodate her body but frilly and pastel-colored, just like something for a freaking _infant_. 

The bassinet is only feet away from the double bed where her kidnappers sleep. Even now she can hear them, the man snoring softly. Totally asleep— defenseless, she thinks hopefully, but there’s no way she can get out of this bassinet to attack them. Her hands, encased in mittens, are tied with restraints attached to the side of the bassinet. There are similar ties around her ankles. Every night she tries to fight being restrained but the man just holds her down, whispering in what must be meant to be a reassuring voice, “Sh, it’s just to make sure my little princess gets her beauty rest.” 

Then, when she’s tied down, she has to suffer a kiss on her forehead from both of them before the tinkling mobile over the bassinet is turned on. Last night the man had stayed there, smiling down at her, not leaving until her eyes closed. 

The memory of his smiling face trips her over the edge in to rage and she starts to scream. The sound is garbled by the pacifier kept in her mouth at all times, something she’s learned to suck on because there’s no other choice. The muffled sound of her screams only enrages her further and she does everything in her power to rip her restraints from the side of the bassinet. 

She hears rustling from the bed. “Baby’s up,” the man mumbles. “You got her?” 

“Mmhm.” More rustling, and then a light is switched on. Lydia finds herself staring up at the woman, beautiful even when roused from sleep at midnight. The woman smiles and puts a hand on Lydia’s forward, smoothing away a few strands of hair. “Sh, kitten,” she whispers. “It’s not time to wake up yet, the sun hasn’t even said hello to us. Go back to dreamland now.” 

Lydia snarls at her as best she can around the gag but the woman just switches the mobile back on and bends to kiss Lydia’s forehead. “We can get up and play in the morning, sweetheart, but now it’s time to rest.” 

There’s no point. No point in screaming or fighting. They don’t care. All this does is allow them to play out their sick fantasy. Lydia shuts up and goes still, turning her head away and shutting her eyes until the woman is satisfied. 

As the woman walks back towards the bed Lydia can hear the man turning over. “Is she good?” he asks sleepily. 

“Just needed Mama’s attention.” The woman chuckles and slides back into bed, words broken up by a yawn. “You know how babies are.” 

Lydia feels impotent rage rise inside of her again, but there’s nothing she can do except to keep her eyes closed and pretend she’s not here. 

X 

Today is one month. One month since Lydia was taken. One month of captivity. 

Not that she’d been keeping count herself, of course, she’s been too drugged to mark the passing of the days. But her kidnappers are _more_ than happy to tell her. 

“It’s your one-month birthday, princess!” The man, Scott, has lifted her out of her bassinet now that morning has come. He’s looking at her with a clear, love-filled gaze, but his grip on her is carefully pinning her arms to her side so she can’t fight him. Even with her hands in mittens she’s managed to get in a few good swings over the past few weeks. “One month is a _very long_ time.” 

God, she hates when they talk to her like she’s an idiot. She rolls her eyes at him but he just kisses her before handing her off to the woman. 

The woman’s name is Kira. Like Scott, she’s hardly older than Lydia is. She’s Scott’s wife or girlfriend or whatever. Lydia hates her even more than Scott, because _come on_ She looks like one of Lydia’s lackeys back in high school, beautiful but too shy to enjoy it. She should be _worshipping_ Lydia, not kidnapping her and subjecting her to this humiliation. 

Come to think of it, Scott has the look of a former nerd to him. Maybe this is some elaborate revenge-on-the-cheerleader type thing. 

Kira carries her out of the bedroom into the nursery, a pink-and-white room where Lydia has been told she’ll sleep once she’s a little “bigger,” whatever the hell that means. Lydia starts to feel herself tense up as Kira puts her down on the— God, Lydia doesn’t even want to _think_ of it as a “changing table.” Torture table is more appropriate. As always she tries to fight being strapped down but Kira is just as strong as Scott and holds her down. ( _How?_ Lydia has spent a small fortune at the gym and even she can’t lug around grown women like they weigh nothing.) 

“Mama needs to see if you wet your diaper, kitten,” the woman says patiently as she holds down Lydia’s legs. “You don’t want to be in a soggy diaper, do you?” 

_Yes,_ yes, she does, because that would be better than being trapped on this table and wiped off, Kira touching her in her most private areas as though she has the right to do it. Lydia can feel her color rising and furious tears in her eyes but Kira just opens the soft cotton onesie she’s been wearing to bed and untapes the thick diaper Lydia’s wearing. “Uh-oh,” she says in her soft voice. “The little girl hasn’t used her diaper all night. Can you go pee-pee now, sweetheart? Mama will change you right away.” 

Lydia clamps her jaw and turns her head stubbornly. 

Kira sighs and turns to the door. “Scott, can you come in here for a second?” 

Lydia tries not to panic. The man, at least, has been kept away for her diaper changes— if he was touching her _there_ she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together. She’s still totally exposed and she desperately tries to shut her thighs as Scott walks in. 

“What’s up?” 

“She won’t use her diaper.” 

“Oh, that’s no good.” Scott smiles at Lydia. “Why doesn’t my little princess want to go pee-pee? It’ll feel so much better when it’s all out.” 

“Do you want to massage her, or have her drink water until she can’t hold it? I don’t want it to be traumatic, but I also want her to learn she can’t hold it in like this.” Kira always talks to Scott like Lydia can’t even understand her. 

“She’ll go for her Daddy, right, princess?” Scott grins at Lydia like they’re sharing some kind of pact. “I know my beautiful little girl doesn’t want a fuss. It can’t be any fun being stuck on that changing table instead of playing with Daddy and Mama.” 

Stubbornness is one of Lydia’s most prized characteristics and she just glowers at Scott, making it _very_ clear she has no intention of _going_ anytime soon. Scott practically pouts, looking disappointed in her. “Maybe it would be easier if we left the room for a few minutes.” 

“Scott, you’re too soft on her. I know you didn’t want to overwhelm her with shots, but even Derek gave the incontinence shot to Stiles. It isn’t healthy for her to be controlling when she goes, she’s too little to know she has to use her diaper to stay healthy.” 

Scott sighs. “I know, I know. We’ll have to call Dr. Deaton.” 

Lydia almost gags. She hasn’t forgotten the shots, the worst moment of the worst day of her life. She’d been trapped in Scott’s lap while a strange man injected her. One had made her lower body go numb. She hasn’t been able to test it out but she thinks it’s to keep her from walking. Better not to think about it. She turns her head and silently wets herself, tears of humiliation pricking her eyes as the diaper under her gets warm and soggy. 

“My beautiful girl!” Scott bends to kiss her cheeks in congratulations as Kira quickly strips the soiled diaper away. “I knew you could do it! Daddy is so proud of you.” 

Lydia whimpers and Kira shoos Scott out so she can finish the changing. Lydia just goes completely still until it’s over. When the new diaper is on Kira goes to the wardrobe and brings out yet another frilly dress, the one a soft pastel yellow. She dresses Lydia like a doll, moving her around easily. Then and only then do her mittens come off, one at a time so Kira can stretch out her fingers, rub lotion into her skin, and put the mittens right back on. 

“Lovely girl,” Kira murmurs, lifting Lydia from the table so she can cradle her against her chest. “Look at her beautiful red hair. Mama will braid it for you, would you like that?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. Kira sits on a beanbag with Lydia in her lap and braids her hair, fingers gentle as they twist the plaits. Lydia remembers faintly that her mother used to do this before the breakup of her family. 

“There,” Kira says in satisfaction when she’s finished. “Let’s go have breakfast with Daddy.” 

Scott is in the kitchen cooking something on the stove. It smells wildly good but Lydia knows by now it’s not for her. He smiles when he sees them. “My girls,” he says lovingly, drawing them both into an embrace. “My beautiful girls.” 

“You want to feed her today?” 

“Absolutely.” Scott takes Lydia into his arms, smoothing down her skirt. “Look at my pretty Lyddie in her princess dress!” 

Lydia knows what happens now. Scott will force her to drink a bottle that’ll make her feel all floaty. She’ll be like that all day, barely even able to comprehend what’s going on around her. She’s only kept from being drugged at nights and in the morning. And there was that one day when she was taken out of this house to another one, where lots of people were trying to coo over her. All in on this insane charade. 

And there had been that boy, dressed in a onesie and carried around by another man, who looked at him with amused adoration. He’d spoken in a high, childish voice and kept reaching out to be picked up and cuddled. Sweet and excitable, constantly shouting out to the others, delighting in being the center of their attention. 

That’s what they want _her_ to be. It had been one of the most terrifying things she had ever seen. 

Some days she fights drinking the bottles but she’s already gone two rounds so far today and she’s tired. She accepts the rubbery nipple and sucks. The formula doesn’t really taste _bad_ and the texture reminds her of the SlimFasts she used to drink in middle school, but God, does she miss real food. 

“Someone’s a hungry girl,” Scott murmurs, and for a second Lydia forgets where she is. This happens sometimes, they’ll say something and her instinct will be to whip her head around and give them a patented Lydia Martin death stare, complete with a snappish, _What did you just say to me?_

If she was back home and a man said that to her, she would fucking _ruin_ him. But she can’t exactly put Scott into his place, not when he’s so firmly put her in hers. She just keeps drinking, not meeting Scott’s eye. 

When the bottle is empty and the pacifier replaced she expects to start feeling floaty, but it doesn’t happen. Her stomach tightens. She’s not expected to go on another outing again, is she? 

Scott carries her into the living room and sits down on the couch, snuggling her into his lap. He sees the look she’s giving him and smiles. “Mama and Daddy thought that now you’ve been here a month you might be ready to be awake all day! Expect for naptime this afternoon, of course, we know little girls need their sleep. Now, Daddy thinks we should read a story and then trim your little fingernails, how does that sound?” 

He reads to her from a crinkly, oversize _Sesame Street_ book, moving her hands so it’s like she’s turning the pages. His voice is soft and excited and he explains the pictures to her— “Look, sweetheart, there’s Ernie with his rubber ducky. Look at all the soap bubbles on his head, that’s silly!” 

Lydia just keeps rolling her eyes. A defense mechanism, she knows, but she can’t help it. This is ridiculous. 

Scott’s enjoying it, though, and he squeezes her tightly when he’s done. “Daddy’s little girl,” he says fondly before carrying her upstairs to the nursery. He grabs a pair of nail trimmers and sits down on a rocking chair. “Now Daddy has to cut his princess’s fingernails, a pretty manicure for my girl.” 

Lydia tries to fight him when he takes off her mittens but as always he’s too strong for her and he keeps her hands in a death grip. “Shh, kitten, these are sharp and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

He trims her nails carefully, clipping them almost to the skin. “There we go,” he says gently when he’s done. “We don’t want the little girl to scratch herself, do we? No, no, we don’t.” 

There’s a knock at the door and Kira sticks her head in, smiling. “It’s a beautiful day,” she says. “I thought it might be nice to go for a walk.” 

“What a good idea!” Scott stands, still cradling Lydia, and carries her back downstairs with Kira. “I’ll set up the baby stroller.” 

Lydia is passed into Kira’s arms and cooed at while Scott struggles and swears just behind. “Scott,” Kira says after a few minutes, looking like she’s trying not to laugh. “Can we watch our language around the little one, please?” 

“Sorry… _fuck!_ — sorry. I need Derek for this, I can’t figure it out.” 

“The strap goes there, honey.” 

“Got it. Okay…done. Let me test it, don’t want her falling out. All set.” 

Kira looks at Lydia and makes a little face. “Silly Daddy,” she says fondly. 

Together they buckle her into a cradle-seat on a baby-type stroller. She’s staring up helplessly into the face of the person pushing her, who turns out to be Kira. She’s right, it is a beautiful day, made even more beautiful by the fact that it’s the first time Lydia has been outside in a long, long time. The sun is warm on her face and she tries to enjoy herself, desperately ignoring Kira narrating the whole thing. 

“Ooh, there’s a big cloud, kitten! What does that cloud look like, hm? Mama thinks it looks like a flower! Look, sweetheart, birds! Look at them all flying! Can you wave hello to the birdies? Oh, here’s someone we know!” 

Lydia hears the rattle of another stroller approaching. “Hey, Kira,” a deep voice says. 

“Hi, Derek. Hi, Stiles!” 

Oh _no_. It’s that man Lydia had been forced to meet and the boy who lived with him. She can hear a childish voice piping up excitedly. “Auntie Kira has the baby? I want to see!” 

She strains to look over the side of the stroller and sees that Derek is pushing a stroller of his own, though this one is suited for an adult-sized toddler. He’s unstrapping the boy from it, lifting him easily into the air. The boy smiles down at Lydia and waves. “The baby is my cousin, right, Daddy?” 

“That’s right, pumpkin.” 

“Is she fun to play with yet, Aunt Kira?” 

Kira laughs. “She’s not quite ready to play yet. But you can give her a kiss hello if you want.” 

Lydia glares at her as Derek lowers Stiles down so he can place a wet kiss on her forehead. “She’s so pretty,” he says. 

“Yes, Scott calls her our Pretty Lyddie.” Kira chuckles as Lydia suddenly yawns, unable to hold it back. “But I think she’s trying to tell us she wants her nap.” 

“Are you keeping the pacifier in all day?” Derek asks, voice a little low as if he doesn’t want Stiles to hear. 

“Yes, she screams down the place when it’s out and we don’t want her to get a sore throat.” 

“Any signs of regression?” 

“She let Scott read to her this morning. I think she might like him better than me. Other than that, not really. She’s a stubborn one.” 

“Well, they’re the most fun.” Derek looks at Stiles, currently busy playing with the fringe of Lydia’s stroller, and smiles before smacking a kiss on his cheek. “All right, sweetheart, I think my little boy needs his naptime too. Let’s head home.” 

“Okay, Daddy. Bye-bye!” He waves at Lydia and holds out his arms for a kiss from Kira before he’s bundles back into the stroller. 

Kira turns the stroller around and heads back towards the house. “You’re going to love playing with Stiles,” she coos to Lydia. “You still have lots and lots of people to meet, kitten, Grandma is coming tomorrow to see you. Won’t that be nice? I know my poor pretty Lyddie didn’t have a nice family before she came here.” 

Lydia shudders. It always terrifies her to realize just how much they know about her. 

Damn it all, though, she _is_ tired. She doesn’t bother to fight as Kira lifts her from the stroller, changes her from the stupid dress into pajamas, and straps her into the bassinet. 

After the nap she chokes down another bottle and is promised “more fun playtime!” Kira puts her down on a playmat with wide arches. There are buttons that play little snippets of songs and blaring animal sounds. Kira “helps” her press them. It’s all so mind-numbingly boring that she lets her mind go blank and just stares up at Kira silently until the woman has finally had enough. 

Unfortunately by that time her bladder has not only filled up again but her liquid diet has exacted its revenge in other ways. She can’t hold it all in and shudders as she goes out both ends nearly simultaneously. God, it’s so _gross_ , she hates this _so, so much_ … 

Kira knows immediately what’s happened and whisks her upstairs for a change. “No need to cry, sweetheart,” she says kindly. “This is what sweet little babies do, that’s why Mama is here to change you.” 

Lydia _isn’t_ crying, thank you very much. She glowers up at Kira as the woman expertly changes her. 

There’s more playtime after that until Lydia is finally picked up by Scott and carried into the bathroom. “Daddy is going to give you your bath tonight,” Scott says softly to her, hushing her immediately when she starts to thrash. “Sh, I know it’s scary, but you’re all right. It’s not good for my little girl to be scared of Daddy, Daddy would never hurt you or give you bad touches. Daddy is just here to take care of his beautiful little princess.” 

He starts running water into the tub before laying her down and undressing her. She keeps fighting, and he keeps hushing her, stripping her clothes off with practiced detachment. “Everything is all right,” he murmurs again and again. “Daddy would never hurt his little Lydia. Lydia is so safe here with Daddy. Don’t be scared, sweetheart.” 

Once she’s fully naked he lifts her by the waist and lowers her into the tub. He’s put in bubble bath, it smells like roses. “Daddy needs to touch his little girl to get her clean, just nice little touches with the washcloth.” 

No, _no!_ Lydia screams with all her might, even though by now she knows there’s nobody to hear or care. Scott washes her face and chest before dipping down between her thighs. Her eyes bulge and she tries to shut her legs. He hushes her, keeping them held open with one powerful hand. “Sh, Lydia’s special parts need to be washed too, we don’t want our little princess getting a rash.” 

He’s quick, at least, but she still feels traumatized as he pulls the bathtub plug and lifts her from the water. She’s dried off in a warm, fluffy towel and carried to the nursery, where he dresses her in a fresh diaper and pajamas. 

“Daddy and Lydia will always have special time together at night,” he tells her softly. “Just the two of us, reading a story or playing a game or doing whatever else my sweet girl wants. Daddy loves his baby girl so much, Daddy is so glad she’s here now with her Daddy and Mama and away from all those nasty humans. Lydia is going to have so much fun here once she’s a little bigger, playing with her new toys and new friends, getting lots of surprises and hugs and kisses from Daddy and Mama. Everything will be so wonderful, just wait and see.” 

He reads her a story in the rocking chair, some weird thing about a wolf with an adopted bunny rabbit. She tries to ignore it. Now that she’s alert she should be trying to find some way to escape. She feels sort of warm and sleepy after her bath, though, and much to her horror she realizes she’s nestling deeper into Scott’s arms as if she’s trying to get cozy there. 

“Bedtime it is,” Scott whispers into her ear, breath tickling against her skin. He carries her back to the bassinet and lowers her down, restraining her carefully. She doesn’t fight tonight, she’s too tired. Scott kisses her cheek. “Daddy loves his little princess,” he murmurs, voice almost reverant. 

She floats, not quite asleep but not awake either. She feels another soft kiss on her forehead and knows it’s Kira, she can tell them apart by their kisses now. “Look how peaceful,” Kira says softly. “So sweet.” 

“You think she’s happy, right?” 

“You know what they say, Scott. She doesn’t know she’s been saved yet, so she doesn’t know she’s supposed to be happy. She’ll get there.” 

“I think she was really starting to nuzzle into me tonight.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re her favorite. Rub it in.” There’s a smooching sound. They’re kissing. Lydia is surprised to find that her first reaction is to want to screw up her face and say _yuck_ , childishly. Kira giggles. “Scotty, _stop_.” 

“Can’t help it, you’re a MILF now.” 

“I don’t even— Scott, the baby’s _right there_.” 

“She’s asleep. C’mon, it’s been a month.” 

“We’ll have to be quiet.” 

“I’ll do my best, but— _oh_. Now that’s not even playing fair.” 

Lydia hears the bed creak, and then creak again. Kira lets out a breathy moan. They’re having sex as if she isn’t even in the room. She considers whimpering or something to let them know she’s awake, but no, it’s too humiliating. She shuts her eyes tightly and tries to sleep. 

Eventually the creaking and moaning stops. There are some giggles and words too soft for her to hear before silence falls. She suddenly feels sad and lonely— she can’t remember the last time she’s been the only one awake in the house. It’s like her situation just suddenly bears down on her, crushing her. 

The more she tries to fall asleep the harder it is. She’s shocked to find herself crying silently as the silence becomes deafening. There’s another creak from the bed and Scott appears, lifting her from the bassinet quickly. “It’s okay, princess,” he whispers. “Daddy’s here.” 

Despite everything she’s just glad to not be alone right now, and that only makes her feel worse. She keeps crying and Scott shifts her so her cheek is pressed against his bare chest. “Skin-to-skin contact,” he murmurs. “That’ll make you feel better.” 

She cries and cries for what seems like forever and he just keeps holding her, patting her back soothingly as if he could do this forever. The whole time he murmurs to her that he loves her so much, his pretty little princess, such a good girl, so safe here with Daddy and Mama. Eventually she tires herself out and falls asleep, still snuggled tightly against Scott’s chest.


	3. Theo & Scott/Liam/Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the Daddy's Baby Boy universe.  
> I had two people who wanted Theo involved in the action, one of whom wanted Theo to be the Daddy to Stiles, Scott, and Liam, so I hope this satisfies you both.  
> Because Theo is a nasty, nasty man this chapter is the darkest thing I have ever written and if you came to Derek's Baby Boy for the fluff it might not be for you. We're talking mind control, humiliation, punishment, serious manipulation, and pretty much nothing redeemable. So, you know, enjoy!

Ever since Theo first took his little boys, he lives for bedtime. During the day there’s so much struggling and hassle, tantrums to mediate and punishments to dole out. When bedtime comes he gets to spend some special time with each of his boys. That’s important in a relationship like theirs. 

Today he’s exhausted but pleased with a relatively incident-free morning and afternoon, and his spirits are high as he starts the bedtime routine. Scott is first, since he’s the oldest and most prone to disobedience. Bedtime with little Scotty can be an _ordeal_. 

Theo had sent him upstairs twenty minutes ago with strict orders to brush his teeth and get into bed to wait for Daddy’s good-night kiss, and he’s pleased to see when he walks into Scott’s room that he’s obeyed. Scott is in his bed, spaceman covers up to his chin. He looks much younger than his nineteen years, hair all adorably mussed and eyes a little red from an earlier tantrum. “Are you all ready for beddy-byes, my little lamb?” Theo coos as he walks to the bed. 

Scott reddens, but nods. A _very_ nice change of tune for his fussiest little one. He’d let Scott play with the baby for about an hour today, maybe that’s what has him so sweet-natured. “Teeth brushed?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Face washed?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Your pull-up is on?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Scott mutters again, but Theo hears the uptick in his heartrate. Oh. _Oh_. Not so obedient today after all, then. 

“Scotty,” he says softly, sitting on the side of the bed and noting how Scott tries to cringe away. “Are you lying to your Daddy?” 

Scott’s eyes get almost comically wide. “No!” 

“Hm.” Theo pulls the covers down and sighs. There’s obviously nothing underneath Scott’s pajamas. “I’ll give you one more chance, little boy. Did you tell me the truth?” 

Scott just stares at him, looking too sick to speak. Theo pulls down his pants— Scott comes alive at _that_ of course, instantly trying to fight him, but by now Theo is much stronger and he just pins the boy to the bed with his elbow. Scott’s tiny little cock and balls, looking smaller now that they’re perfectly hairless, stare up at him. “Well. How disappointing to see my little boy lied to his Daddy. No pull-up.” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Scott whispers. His heartrate is fast again, but Theo knows this time it’s from fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“You know you wet yourself at night, little boy. What was your plan? To wake up and go to the bathroom yourself, like a big-boy, then put on your Pull-Up so Daddy would be none the wiser?” Theo shakes his head slowly. “Trying to deceive Daddy, what a _bad_ boy.” 

It’s hard keeping the glee he feels out of his voice. It’s so, so lovely when little Scott fucks up this badly, because now Theo gets to do his favorite thing in the world. “You know what Daddy has to do now, don’t you?” 

Scott lets out a desperate sob. “No, Daddy, _please_ don’t.” 

“Daddy doesn’t like to do this awful thing, but his little Scott just doesn’t learn.” 

“Don’t,” Scott begs. “Hurt me instead, Th— Daddy, please.” 

“I just don’t understand why you keep acting like this when you know the consequences. Do you _like_ hurting your little brother? Is that it? Don’t you love him anymore?” 

Scott is crying messily. It’s just _gorgeous_. “I w-won’t be bad, Daddy, just don’t hurt him.” 

“No, these are the rules. When you misbehave, the baby has to be punished.” Theo stands. “Now, I’m going to get a pull-up for you before you have an accident.” 

He walks out of the room, keeping an ear trained towards Scott’s cries. Just as he hoped he hears the boy scramble out of bed. Such a little hero, playing right into Theo’s hands. He knows right where his bad little boy is headed and he runs, catching Scott easily and pinning him before he reaches the nursery door. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chides. “Don’t go disturbing your little brother, you’ve given him enough to worry about. Now this will be an added punishment. Back to bed before you make it any worse.” 

Scott sniffles but lets Theo guide him back to his bedroom. It’s such a lovely room, soft blue with a space theme. Theo had spent weeks getting the house ready for his boys as he put his plan into motion. It had been torture to wait but now they’re here, safely locked away, all his forever. 

Theo puts Scotty into his pull-up and then back into bed. “Arms out,” he says cheerfully, and Scott sticks out his arms so Theo can tie them to the bedpost. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut so he doesn’t have to look at Theo’s face, and Theo knows how badly he wants to fight, but he’s already gotten into enough trouble today. Theo finishes restraining the boy and bends to kiss his forehead, lingering on it because he knows Scott hates that. 

“Now, your baby brother is probably already very sleepy, and I don’t want to disturb his rest, so the punishment will wait until tomorrow. What do you say to Daddy for being so considerate?” 

“Thank you, Daddy,” Scott whispers, eyes still closed. Theo smiles. It’s not really a consideration, of course, he just wants Scott to stew all night, dreading what will happen in the morning. Since Scott is the oldest of his babies— and a _True Alpha_ , as Theo likes to think smugly whenever he looks at the trapped teenager pissing in his pull-up or eating his stewed vegetables with his bib on or dutifully playing with Power Rangers— he’s the hardest to break, but Theo knows how to manipulate his weak spots. 

“Goodnight, my little boy. Daddy loves you.” 

Scott’s face is practically puce and he doesn’t say it back, but that’s fine. Theo doesn’t need it from him. From Scott, the suffering is enough. 

He locks Scotty’s door carefully behind him and moves on. 

Liam is next. Sweet, sweet toddler-minded Liam. As the middle child he can sometimes get lost in the shuffle, so Theo likes to give him plenty of extra attention. Like Scott, Liam is already in bed, but Theo isn’t worried he’s hiding a broken rule. Liam is his good boy. 

“I heard noises, Daddy,” Liam whispers as Theo sits down by the edge of his bed. 

“Yes, your big brother was being naughty.” Theo tries to look solemn. “He’s all better now.” 

“W-will he be punished, Daddy?” 

“In the morning, but I don’t want my little Liam to even think about it. You’re not a bad boy like your brother, are you, honey? You won’t ever misbehave like him.” 

Liam shakes his head silently. 

“That’s good. Because Daddy knows there’s only _one_ way to properly punish you, and it would mean taking another little boy into our home, wouldn’t it? I would have to go out and find our little Mason to come join us, and my Liam doesn’t want that, does he?” 

Liam is generally well-behaved, but that doesn’t mean threats won’t keep him in line. 

“No, Daddy! I’ll be good.” Liam skootches over so he can lay his head in Theo’s lap imploringly. God, he’s adorable. “Promise, Daddy.” 

“Good boy, baby. Daddy’s good boy. Does my good boy want a story?” 

Liam nods and Theo fetches a story for him. Liam is yawning and heavy-lidded by the time it’s over and Theo makes quick work of tying him to the bed and kissing his forehead. “Goodnight, Li-Li. Daddy loves you.” 

Liam turns red but knows his lines. “I love you too, Daddy.” 

Theo smiles before leaving and locking the door behind him. 

Now, for the very best bedtime. Theo knows good Daddies shouldn’t play favorites, but, well, how can he not? The baby is just _perfection_ now. 

Theo had left him strapped to the changing table while he took care of the others. The baby is still there, happily cooing to himself as he tries to play with his toes. When he sees Theo a grin splits his face and he raises his arms to be lifted. “Da-da,” he babbles. 

“Oh, my little baby.” Theo tickles his tummy, smiling at the peals of laughter it brings. He has to give his little Stiles a nice claw to the neck every three days to keep him docile, and Stiles is always especially babyish right after it happens. He’d gotten his most recent treatment, as Theo likes to think about it, right after bathtime. “Such a good little baby for Daddy.” 

Stiles gurgles agreeable and tries to stick his fist in his mouth. It’s almost a shame that the claw thing doesn’t work on wolves, Theo wouldn’t mind having his little Scotty being this helpless for a little while. Watching them break is fun, to be sure, but to play with them after they’re broken— well, that’s the real reward. 

“Daddy has some bad news for his baby,” he says softly. “Your big brother was very naughty today, so poor little Stiles has to be punished tomorrow morning.” 

Stiles blinks at him. Theo isn’t sure if the claw thing keeps him from understanding, or just keeps him from reacting the way he wants to, but either way Stiles only smiles and tries to reach up and pat Theo’s nose. 

“Yes, that won’t be very nice for my little angel. So bad of Scotty to put his baby brother through this.” Theo starts to take off Stiles’ diaper as he talks, pleased to see that he’d mindlessly wet it while he was lying on the table. “Scotty is such a naughty, naughty boy, but Daddy will teach him right from wrong so he can be a good little baby just like _you!_ ” He bends to blow a raspberry on Stiles’ tummy at the last word, making the baby shriek happily. 

He dresses his baby in pajamas and lifts him from the table, cradling him tightly as he waltzes him across the room. He can hardly wait for tomorrow. He’ll tie Scotty down in his punishment chair so he can watch. It will be a particularly vicious punishment, since it’s been over a week since the last time Scott needed to be punished this way. Theo smiles and kisses Stiles’ cheek. “Oh, boy, Daddy is going to have lots of fun with you tomorrow,” he murmurs. 

Stiles just beams at him and rests his head against his Daddy’s shoulder. Theo lowers him into his crib. Stiles used to fight this with all his might but now he happily raises his arms to Theo can tie him to the bars of the crib. “There we go,” Theo says lovingly. “Bye-bye, my favorite boy. Daddy loves you.” 

Stiles’ eyes shine up at him adoringly before they flutter closed. Theo locks the nursery door behind him and walks down the hall, listening at each door to make sure all is well. Liam is snoring softly. Scotty is still sniffling, so Theo waits at his door like a good Daddy to make sure he eventually drifts off to sleep. 

Once he’s sure all three of his little babies are happily in dreamland he heads to bed himself, making sure all three baby monitors are switched on. Poor baby Stiles sometimes has nightmares and Theo has to rush over to comfort him. They must be absolutely _awful_ dreams, because he just screams and screams no matter what Theo does. 

He sleepily makes a note that if it happens tonight he’ll walk Stiles up and down the hall, past Scotty’s room. Give him a little taste of what’s coming tomorrow. 

Theo smiles and closes his eyes. God, how he loves his little family.


	4. Derek's Baby Boy--Scott/Kira & Allison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternate "Scott and Kira's baby" chapter!  
> Non-con touching of a mildly sexual nature

When Allison was a kid she was warned about stranger danger by her dad. One of the lessons he imparted a hundred times was to _scream_ , over and over, if someone tried to grab her. 

As it turned out, when she was actually taken she didn’t get the chance to scream. She just felt a prick on her neck and when she woke up she was in some guy’s arms. She’s been making up for it ever since by screaming whenever she can, even though there’s a pacifier always stuck in her mouth. They try to pick her up? Scream. They kiss her cheeks? Scream. They put rattles in her hand and try to get her to shake? Scream, throw the rattle at the wall, and try to punch them in the face instead. 

And yet they don’t drive her home, or even just kill her to get her to shut up, which she honestly thinks she might prefer by this point. They just laugh and coo about what a fussy little princess she is. 

Ridiculous. 

This morning she’s woken up (scream), put into a clean diaper (scream so loud she thinks her eye vessels might burst) and dressed in a onesie decorated with little tiaras (scream until her voice cracks and trails off into whimpering). “It’s going to be a very exciting day for my little girl,” the man, Scott, tells her gently when she can’t scream anymore. “Some friends are coming over to say hello, won’t that be nice?” 

He takes out her pacifier so he can poke a bottle into her mouth. She’s stopped fighting the bottles, she knows it’s the only food she gets, and the taste isn’t so bad. Besides, her throat is raw from all the screaming, so she needs something to soothe it. 

When the bottle is empty Scott props her up and pats her back until she burps. She can see him reaching for the pacifier again and she whimpers. “Let me go home,” she chokes out. “Please…” 

Scott hushes her and kisses the top of her head. “Daddy can’t send his beautiful princess back to where she was, because there were lots of nasty people there and little Allison needs to be somewhere safe.” 

“That’s not true!” They’re always saying that, like there was something wrong with her family. Sure, her grandfather was kind of a nut, and there has to be a reason nobody ever talks about her aunt Kate, and her mom has never exactly been the warm and fuzzy type...but her dad always took care of her. He must miss her, he must be absolutely _frantic_. She has to see him again. 

“It is true, my poor baby girl, but you’re far away now and you’ll never have to see those bad people again. Now, no more arguing with Daddy, that’s not nice.” Scott slides the pacifier into her mouth before she can respond. “Let’s go see Mommy and play a little before our friends come.” 

Kira is in the living room, restocking the giant playpen with more stuffed animals and toys. “Good morning, baby girl,” she coos, kissing Allison’s forehead. “Did Daddy tell you about your playdate today? Mommy and Daddy have something exciting for you.” 

The “exciting” thing turns out to be some huge inflatable pen with a little basketball hoop. Kira puts her inside and gives her a Nerf ball. “You and Stiles can have fun playing in here. Why don’t you practice for a little while so you can kick his butt later, hm?” 

Allison chucks the ball outside the playpen in anger. Scott just laughs and chases after it. Of course, they’re probably just going to treat her like a baby throwing stuff around because she doesn’t know any better. Nothing she ever does makes a difference, they just spin it and use it to their advantage. 

She sits in the playpen and sulks, ignoring their attempts to get her to play. Eventually they take her out of the inflatable playpen and put her in the real one, encouraging her to play with the toys they’ve stocked. 

It’s a long day, full of bottles, a naptime, and about twenty minutes in her “bouncer,” which she hates so much she screams at the very top of her lungs. They finally transfer her back into the playpen, where she pointedly continues to ignore all the stupid toys. 

The windows are open to let in fresh air, and soon enough she hears a piping little voice from outside. “But Daddy, what if, what if the baby doesn’t want to be my friend?” 

“Of course she’ll want to be your friend, sweetheart, you know everyone loves you. But remember she’s so little and silly right now that she might not want to play. You can help her see there’s nothing wrong with being a happy little baby, right?” 

“You promise she’s nice?” 

“I promise.” There’s a knock at the front door and Scott rushes to open it. Allison recognizes the man who steps inside— she’d been taken to his house about a week ago, his name is Derek but sometimes people call him Alpha. In his arms is the boy who apparently thinks he’s a baby. Surely he can’t be as brainwashed as he pretends. She has to be able to talk with him privately so they can escape together. 

“Wow!” the boy says, staring at the playpen. “For us to play, Uncle Scott?” 

“Yep, buddy! I thought you would like that.” Scott comes to lift Allison out of the playpen, setting her on his hip and kissing the top of her head. “Let’s do some formal introductions. Ally-cat, this is your cousin Stiles and your Uncle Derek.” 

Derek gives Stiles to Scott and takes Allison. She’s gotten used to being passed around like an object, but she can tell right away that this man is even stronger than Scott and Kira. He holds up her as if she weighs no more than a feather and smiles slightly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbones. “It’s funny. I can barely see Kate in her.” 

“Peter said he could only see it in the eyes. We thought, if it makes you uncomfortable, we could get color contacts…” 

“No, no. Like I’ve told you before, it’s great that she’s an Argent. I like seeing Kate’s eyes in one of the babies. I was honestly a little doubtful about the Society focusing their efforts on finding the children of hunters to take, but this…this is perfect.” Derek’s voice is soft. He kisses Allison’s forehead gently. 

Allison doesn’t understand what’s going on, but it seems like they know— _knew_ — her aunt Kate. Like maybe they’re doing this to her out of revenge. Although she has no idea what they mean by _hunters_ ; nobody in her family hunts… 

Scott takes her back and gently pulls the pacifier out of her mouth. She opens her mouth to scream and he frowns at her. “No, sweetheart. We want you to have fun with your cousin, but if you’re going to be fussy your paci has to go back in.” 

She hesitates. She wants to scream on principle, but what’s the point? She’ll just be gagged again, with no way to communicate with Stiles. Better to play along. 

They go into the basketball playpen. Stiles is losing his mind with excitement over it, constantly chucking the ball towards the hoop and usually missing so one of the captors has to go chasing after it. Derek lifts him easily up into the air so he can sink a few baskets. He tries to give the ball to Allison a few times but she crosses her arms and refuses to play along. 

Eventually he tires himself out and lays down on the floor of the playpen, giggling and breathing heavily. They’re transferred from the new playpen into the playpen with all the toys. Scott looks kind of disappointed that Allison refused to play. “You can have fun with your blocks, right, princess?” he coos. “Stiles can show you how to stack them!” 

She bites her tongue as Stiles skootches close to her and eagerly starts to stack. After a few minutes the captors drift away to the couch, talking amongst themselves about someone named Boyd and whether or not he’s going to let Erica “adopt.” Allison waits until they’re a safe distance away before leaning her head close to Stiles. “How long have you been here?” she whispers. Her voice is horse. 

Stiles stares at her for a second, then shrugs. “Dunno. Wanna make a castle?” 

“Did they drug you or something?” 

He wrinkles his nose. “You talk funny. I brought my mermaids, do you want to play?” 

Shit, it’s not an act. She’s going to have to break him out of this if he’s going to help her. She nods and watches as he happily unpacks a case that looks like a pirate ship. “You can have Illyria, she’s pretty like you. She’s got a magic song that crashes ships.” 

“Did…your Daddy give you these?” 

“Uh-huh. You can have Gisele too, she can talk to fishes.” 

“Do you remember when you first met your Daddy?” 

Stiles stops and wrinkles his nose again. “Nuh-uh, I was too little.” 

“What’s the first thing you remember?” 

“Um…I dunno.” His face breaks out into a smile. “I ‘member I was sick and Daddy gave me ice cream and it was yummy, that was nice. I ‘member being bad and thinking Daddy was going to put me in the closet but he didn’t.” A shadow crosses his face. “A bad lady used to put me in the closet.” 

“A bad lady here?” 

“Nuh-uh, out with humans. Daddy keeps me safe from bad people now. I ‘member there was a bad wolf and Daddy came and saved me, that was the best!” Stiles grins, wrapping his arms around his knees happily. “He’s the best Daddy in the world.” 

“Did you…pick him as your Daddy?” 

“Babies don’t pick Daddies,” Stiles says like she’s an idiot. 

“So he picked you?” 

“Uh-huh, ‘cause he knew I was meant to be his baby boy.” 

“But you didn’t believe that at first, did you?” 

Stiles looks a little trapped. “I was too little, I didn’t know any better. I was silly.” 

“No, you weren’t.” 

Stiles scowls. “Yes, I was!” 

“He kidnapped you,” Allison says in a low voice, staring directly into Stiles’ eyes. “You know that, don’t you? He kidnapped you and kept you here against your will and brainwashed you into thinking you’re happy. You’re just like me, a victim. You need to get out of here. I can help you.” 

Stiles shakes his head and puts his hands over his ears. “That’s bad. You’re bad.” 

“We can escape together. He won’t hurt you. I’ll get you far away from here so you never even have to see him again.” 

“No! Nobody takes me away from Daddy!” 

Frustration rises inside of her. “He’s not your Daddy, he’s not a good person, and he doesn’t actually love you! He just wants to hurt you!” 

She knows immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Stiles’ face crumples and turns bright red. He lets out a sob and tilts back his head. “Daddy!” 

Almost instantly Derek is there, reaching down to lift Stiles out of the playpen. He croons to the boy, holding him close and rubbing a circle on his back. “What is it? What’s wrong with my sweet baby?” 

Stiles points accusingly to Allison. “S-she said I can’t be with Daddy!” 

“Allison,” Scott says disapprovingly as he pulls her out of the playpen too. She tries to hit out at him, completely fed up with this whole charade, but he just tsks and pins her hands to her side. 

“She said D-daddy doesn’t really love me and isn’t _really_ my Daddy and—” Stiles is getting so upset his breaths are coming out ragged. Derek hushes him, bouncing him a little bit as he moves a few steps away. 

“You didn’t believe those silly things she was saying, did you, sweetheart?” 

“N-no, but I d-don’t like people saying that bad stuff!” 

“I know, pumpkin, I know. Sh, she didn’t mean it, she’s just so little that she doesn’t understand things. You’re bigger than her and you know more, so you can help make her see that she’s wrong. Soon she’ll be all better, just you wait.” Derek kisses Stiles’ cheeks. “Daddy doesn’t want his little boy to be unhappy. We don’t need to have any bad thoughts, do we? We don’t ever need to even think about silly things like Stiles not belonging with Daddy.” 

Stiles sniffles and twines his arms around Derek’s neck. “Okay, Daddy.” 

“Now tell me, who loves you more than anyone else in the whole world?” 

“D-daddy.” 

“And why does Daddy love his little Stiles?” 

Stiles’ breathing has returned to normal. “Because Stiles is Daddy’s family, his one and only little prince.” The words are muffled as he nuzzles against Derek’s neck. 

“That’s right, my beautiful boy.” Derek keeps stroking the boy’s back soothingly, a soft look on his face. Allison finds she can’t look away from them. “That’s right. Now, here’s what we’ll do. Uncle Scott and Aunt Kira will put in the baby’s pacifier so she can’t say any more silly things. Then Daddy will read a story to both of you, how about that?” 

Stiles nods, slipping his thumb into his mouth. Scott replaces Allison’s pacifier before she can even scream and carries her over to the couch. He sits with her, cradling her close, tucking her face into his neck. Weirdly, she likes it. It’s nice to have her face hidden. Then she realizes Scott is stroking her back like Derek had been doing to Stiles and she stops liking it. She struggles and Scott changes position, turning her to face outward so she’s sitting on his lap and his arms are crossed over her chest, trapping her hands. 

“Let’s have a nice story,” Derek says. His voice is still gentle like it was when he was talking to Stiles. He rifles through a bag to pull out an illustrated storybook. 

It’s _Peter Rabbit_. Allison vaguely remembers this story from when she was a kid. Stiles is completely enthralled, snuggled on Derek’s lap— his eyes are wide as Derek describes Mr. MacGregor chasing the bunny and he squeals when Peter gets home safe. 

“Now Peter Rabbit is back at home with his Mommy,” Derek says, pointing to the last page. He looks at Allison and smiles. “It’s nice to be safe and warm with people who love you, isn’t it?” 

Allison looks away. She wishes she could run away from these people and go home safe like Peter. She can see the contented look on Stiles’ face as Derek hugs him tight, and, God, she wants to feel like that too. Just not here, not with these people. 

When she gets home, she’s going to _demand_ more affection from her family. She needs it. She _deserves_ it. The thoughts make her eyes water and she tries to shut them so nobody will see, but Scott is already crooning to her soothingly, tucking her close against his chest and rubbing her back. “It’s all right, princess, Daddy’s got you.” He kisses the top of her head. “Daddy loves you, Ally.” 

_Don’t believe him_. It’s a whisper in the back of her mind, scaring her. She shouldn’t have to remind herself not to believe what they say. It should just be something she _knows_. 

Kira sits down with them and rubs Allison’s back too. Allison can hear Stiles whispering: “Daddy? Is she okay?” 

“She’s okay, pup, she just needs some love from her Mommy and Daddy.” 

“I didn’t make her sad by saying she was bad, did I?” Stiles sounds like he might cry too. 

“No, sweetheart. Sh, everything’s all right.” 

Allison keeps her eyes closed until the threat of tears has passed. When she opens her eyes again Scott and Kira are looking at her with tender concern. “Maybe that’s enough playtime for today,” Scott says gently. “Why don’t we say bye-bye to Uncle Derek and Stiles?” 

Derek brings Stiles over and the boy throws his arms around Allison in a surprisingly tight hug. “Sorry I said you were bad,” he sniffles. “Not bad, Ally. You’ll be happy soon, promise.” 

Allison returns the hug. She can’t hate this poor boy. She can only hope she doesn’t become him. 

When they’ve gone Scott carries her upstairs. He puts his hand to the front of her diaper, frowning. “My little girl hasn’t used her diaper all day.” 

Allison knows they’ve given her something to make sure she’s urinating, but with a _lot_ of concentration she can hold it at bay. Her current plan is to hold it until she gets sick, so they have to take her to the hospital. 

“Why is my sweet girl trying to make herself uncomfortable? It would feel so much better to have it all out, wouldn’t it?” He sighs when she just shakes her head stubbornly. “Okay. If the little girl doesn’t know how to use her diaper properly, Daddy will help.” 

She sucks in her stomach, expecting him to push down on her bladder like he’s done before, but instead he starts to knead the front of the diaper. “Sh, sh,” he whispers when she shrieks around the pacifier. “Daddy’s poor princess can’t go on her own, so Daddy has to help. You have to learn not to hold it in, that isn’t healthy. You’ll feel all better in a minute.” 

He keeps rubbing. The diaper is pressing right into her clit, stimulating not only her bladder but her sex as well. She doesn’t want to be aroused but it’s impossible not to be. When she finally releases her bladder it feels almost like an orgasm, a sudden rush or warmth and pleasure. “Good girl!” Scott croons, hand stilling as the diaper gets soggy. “Such a good girl for her Daddy.” He whisks her over to be changed. 

Usually the application of cream to her lower body is brisk and efficient, but today she swears he’s taking his time with it. All the hair on her lower body has been removed so she’s especially sensitive there. It’s like she’s really _aware_ of it for the first time, just how stimulating these touches could be if she focused on them. 

Scott can feel her trembling and he hushes her, taking his hands away and wiping them off. "Sh, baby. Daddy would never hurt you. Daddy has to touch your special parts to keep you clean and healthy, that's all." 

She glares at him, biting down on the pacifier until it hurts. 

Scott picks her back up and cradles her. “I know it’s hard right now,” he says quietly. His voice has lost the high-pitched, cooing quality she’s used to hearing. “You’re so new here and confused. I understand. Once you’ve earned a few more privileges things will be so much better.” He gently kisses her forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even know how lucky you are to be here. Those terrible people you used to live with— they would have turned you into a _killer_. Made you into something _terrible_.” His voice is angry and Allison shivers, wishing despite herself he would go back to the babyish voice. “Mommy and Daddy will keep you safe from all of that.” 

Kira walks into the room holding her cell phone. She’s grinning. “Derek texted. Apparently Stiles has become very protective over our baby. He keeps asking when he can see ‘my Ally’ again.” 

“God, that’s adorable. Might be a good idea to wait until she’s a little more settled though, we don’t want another meltdown.” 

“Oh, come on. You know Derek totally planned for that to happen. He’s always trying to make sure Stiles is one hundred percent regressed. But maybe we can call over someone who’s been here a long time, like Danny, since he won’t pay those kinds of comments any mind. I’ll do the bedtime story tonight.” 

“Okay.” Scott kisses Allison’s forehead again. “Night-night, sleep tight. Love you lots and lots, princess.” 

Kira sits in the rocking chair with her and reads a story. Her voice is soft and sweet, lilted almost like a lullaby, and Allison finds herself drifting off. She doesn’t even fight when Kira kisses her forehead and puts her in the crib. There’s a cover that goes over the top, making her feel like she’s sleeping in a cage, but before Kira locks it she carefully puts a stuffed bunny into Allison’s arms. Allison grips if reflexively, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur. 

“Goodnight, my little angel,” Kira whispers before turning off the lights. Allison hugs the bunny tightly as she falls asleep.


	5. Jordan/Isaac--Consensual Infantilism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompts: Isaac (baby wise) and anyone else  
> and  
> Parrish and Isaac should be one
> 
> I didn't realize how much I needed a Parrish and Isaac infantilism fic in my life until this prompt, and I loved the idea so much I had to quickly write up this ridiculously saccharine little ficlet. But no worries that I'm going soft, I'm currently in the process of starting another real fic featuring Derek/Stiles noncon. Planning to let that shit get dark so feel free to toss out any specific prompts you want for that.

Every morning Isaac likes to be woken up by his Papa reaching into the crib and gently touching his shoulder. It means that Jordan has to practically tiptoe into the nursery, inching the door open so it won’t squeak, but he never minds it because it’s so worth it each day to see the sleepy joy on Isaac’s face. 

Today Isaac is deeply in sleep when Jordan reaches him, thumb nudged in his mouth and curly hair tousled. Jordan puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes gently. “Good morning, precious boy,” he whispers when Isaac’s eyelashes flutter. “Can you say hello to Papa?” 

Isaac smiles up at him and reaches up. Jordan lifts him. It can be a struggle to get the boy out of his crib, especially when Isaac is feeling too babyish to help, but today Isaac happily loops his arms around Jordan’s neck so Jordan can get him up easily. 

“Did you have sweet dreams last night, Isaac?” 

Isaac makes a happy sound. Jordan can feel that his diaper is wet so he changes him quickly. Isaac is talkative today, babbling his nonsense sounds up at Jordan. Whenever Isaac tries to talk real words he gets tongue-tied quickly, tripping over what he becomes so frustrated to get out, so Jordan told him that it wasn’t necessary. 

A good Papa knows what his baby needs without being told, of course. 

“Papa has the day off today,” he tells Isaac happily. “That means Papa has all day to spend with his best little boy.” 

He makes Isaac his favorite flavor bottle for breakfast before carrying him into the living room and turning on the television. Isaac loves children’s cartoons, the younger the better. Grown-up TV upsets him. Once Jordan had left him in the living room alone when he was feeling a bit older than usual, and he’d gotten his hands on the remote, delighting in squishing the buttons. He’d accidently turned the television to the news. Jordan came back into the room to see him sitting there horrified, watching some awful story about a mother who killed her two children. 

It had upset him so much he cried for the rest of the day, soaking Jordan’s shirtfront, and refused to be put down until bedtime. After that Jordan got parental controls set for the television. 

Isaac drinks his breakfast and watches _Bear and the Big Blue House_ for a while. When the bottle is empty he pillows his head on Jordan’s lap and watches the TV while Jordan caresses his fingers through that beautiful mop of hair. He’d hesitantly suggested cutting it once and Isaac had refused. Jordan is glad. He loves his baby’s hair. 

Jordan tries to limit TV-time so once _Bear_ is over he turns the set off and puts Isaac into his playpen. Isaac can amuse himself in there for hours so Jordan decides to get some housework done now, that way he won’t have to do anything tonight and he can just spend time with his baby. 

He has to run the vacuum through the living room. Isaac can’t stand loud noises and Jordan can see him covering his ears with his eyes squinched shut, trembling a little. Jordan goes as quickly as he can and hurries over the baby when he’s done. “All finished,” he coos, brushing away a few strands of hair away from his forehead. 

Isaac smiles tremulously up at him. Jordan and Isaac have a rule that Jordan never asks directly about the abuse, just accepts that some things might be triggering and Isaac doesn’t want to talk about them. The vacuum, or maybe just loud noises in general, is one of those things. 

Jordan finishes up the housework while Isaac returns to his playpen. It’s huge, filled with every type of toy a baby could want. What Isaac loves especially is the dress up trunk in the corner. It’s stuffed full of costumes and clothes Jordan has snagged from second-hand shops. Sometimes Isaac likes to wear skirts, not as part of his everyday wear but as a costume. Jordan can see him pulling on his dresses and arranging a tiara in his hair once he’s satisfied with his clothes. Jordan should really buy him a makeup kit one of these days. 

“You look so pretty, sweetheart,” he calls across the room. Isaac beams at him, tiara crooked on his head. 

God, he’s so adorable. And now he’s away from the danger, the hatred, the hurt. He’s nice and safe with his Papa. This arrangement might be odd to most people, but Jordan needs to be a caregiver, and Isaac needs to be taken care of. It’s perfect. 

When Jordan has finished cleaning up he walks back over to the playpen and bends down to see what Isaac is doing. Isaac is still in his princess dress and is coloring in broad strokes across a blank sheet of paper. 

“Are you making me a drawing, baby?” 

Isaac nods shyly and holds it up. Even after all this time there’s still a hesitancy to some moments like these, as if he’s partly expecting Jordan to grab the drawing and rip it up or suddenly slap him across the face. 

It’s a picture of Jordan, of course, in his police uniform, carrying a curly-haired boy out of a burning house. Isaac loves to draw pictures like this, featuring Jordan as some kind of savior, and Jordan is always touched and flattered by them. Jordan smiles, brushing his thumb over the waxy crayon smile on his face. “Oh, sweetheart. I love it. I’ll put it right up on the fridge.” 

Isaac beams and grabs a crayon to start another drawing. 

When naptime comes he’s yawning, but he fusses when Jordan takes him upstairs to the crib. Somedays he doesn’t want a proper naptime, just a little rest, so Jordan grabs a blanket and some stuffed animals and cuddles on the couch with him. Isaac sleeps deeply, face open and innocent. 

Whenever he sleeps next to Jordan his body can’t help but respond, all those enhanced senses scenting Jordan and giving him far from babyish thoughts. Jordan has one hand over the bulge in Isaac’s diaper, which thickens as Isaac sleeps. The boy starts to move against his hand unconsciously, craving friction, and Jordan presses down on the diaper to help. 

Isaac hums in his sleep, yawning as he starts to wake up. His own hands drift down to the diaper and he whines with need. “Shh,” Jordan whispers, kissing the top of his head. “Papa will take care of it.” He begins to rub against the diaper until Isaac comes. Jordan likes to make these moments all about Isaac, so he ignores his own slight erection in favor of stroking Isaac through it until he’s trembling and moaning, a mindlessly happy smile on his face. 

Isaac always likes to wet his diaper right after an orgasm, so Jordan carries him upstairs quickly for a change. After he lifts Isaac up from the changing table the boy hugs him tightly around the neck, nuzzling against him in a way that’s almost desperately affectionate. Jordan’s heart just melts for him all over again and he kisses his baby’s forehead. “Such a sweet little boy,” he whispers. “My dearest little boy.” 

Isaac smiles with his eyes closed, slipping his thumb into his mouth as Jordan carries him back downstairs. 

X 

Isaac is having a nice day. On days like this it’s very easy to let his thoughts drift away, leaving him contented and peaceful. It only ever happens when Papa is here, so Isaac is glad he took the day off. 

He knows why, of course. Today is Father’s Day. He can’t help but keep track of the dates. Jordan is always worried about things reminding Isaac about what his dad used to do, so he’s careful to spoil Isaac heavily on days that might be especially triggering. 

But Isaac doesn’t feel bad at all today. Even when his thoughts turn to his real father, as they can’t help but do, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t have a father any more, he has a Papa. His real father had been so terrible Isaac had to make himself bigger and stronger so nothing could ever hurt him again. His Papa is so good to him that Isaac can be smaller. He doesn’t have to worry about his Papa hurting him, because Papa makes sure nothing will ever hurt him. 

He loves his Papa so much. They’re cuddling together on the couch now. Isaac is in his dress-up clothes, with the silk skirt all pretty and swishy around his legs. He likes wearing skirt because they make him feel pretty and because it means Papa can easily play inside his diaper if Isaac wants him to. 

He feels sleepy so he closes his eyes and snuggles in close. Papa is whispering to him about what a perfect little boy he is. He’s always saying nice stuff like that, he never ever tells Isaac that he’s stupid or worthless or bad. He never even yells, not even that time Isaac was feeling especially little and drew on the walls with crayons. 

When Isaac was with his father, it felt like every minute he was fighting. When he was with the pack, he was fighting. Now there’s no more fighting, just toys and soft blankies and his Papa’s adoration. 

Papa feeds him a bottle and has him eat some applesauce. Usually Isaac doesn’t like solid food when he’s feeling so little but Papa reminds him that it’s good for him and Papa just wants his little boy to be happy and healthy. It’s so nice to know that someone cares about whether or not his belly is full that he eats without complaint. 

When night falls Papa asks if he wants to sleep in the crib or in the bed. Even though he feels young enough for the crib he doesn’t want to be away from Papa in case his father shows up in his dreams, so he points to the bedroom. 

He falls asleep with Papa’s arms tightly around him and his favorite stuffed bunny in his arms, smiling as he ends another perfect day.


	6. Daddy's Baby Boy-- Derek Gets Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THE PROMPT: It would be cool to see a bit of role reversal. Maybe Derek could get hurt,not seriously it just bad enough for him to need to rest up for a couple of days. Peter could come to look after them both and keep Stiles away from his daddy while he recovers but Stiles sneaks into Derek's room and looks after him in the cute way only children can.
> 
> Thank you, prompter! I don't know how this became 5000 words but here we are :)

Sometimes it’s important to just take a few moments to relax. Stiles craves attention and affection, so Derek always carves out some time to just snuggle with him and let him know he’s loved. 

Today they’re on the couch in the living room. Stiles is on top of Derek, a wriggly bundle excitedly telling him all about the movie he watched at Uncle Peter’s yesterday. Stiles likes to basically reenact the entire plot for him, plus toss in a few extra theories and stories of his own, and Derek finds it so endearing that he’s always willing to listen. 

(The movie, as it turns out, was episode four of _Star Wars_. Somehow the baby had never watched it before. Every time Derek thinks he's not angry over the way his poor Stiles had been treated before Derek rescued him, he learns something like this and gets angry all over again.) 

“And Uncle Peter said there’s five more movies, Daddy, _five!”_

“How many is five, sweetheart?” 

Stiles holds up five fingers. “This many. When am I going to Uncle Peter’s again, Daddy? He said we can watch them next time I go.” 

“You’re actually going on Saturday, pup. Daddy has another werewolf to go rescue. But the good news is he’s very close, so I don’t have to get on the plane. I won’t even be gone overnight.” 

Stiles considers that. Sometimes he throws a fit when Derek has to go away, but today he doesn’t seem to be in the mood. “Okay.” 

Derek smiles and adjusts the baby so he’s snuggled up tight. “Tell me more about the Stormtroopers.” 

Stiles yammers on until he tires himself up and falls asleep right there in Derek’s lap. Derek sends Peter a text scolding him for letting Stile watch such a grown-up movie, though he’s not really annoyed, it’s just important to remind Peter of his authority sometimes. Stiles sucks his thumb in his sleep and Derek smiles down at him, laying a feather-light kiss on his forehead. 

It’s hard to see how life could be any more perfect. 

X 

Derek takes Scott with him as backup. It’s the first time Scott has been away from his baby girl and he’s a littles sniffy as he kisses her goodbye. She’s a long way from regressed yet, but Derek thinks she clings to Scott for a few moments before she’s gently handed back to Kira. 

Scott yammers on about his little princess nearly the whole drive but Derek doesn’t complain— he knows he was just as obnoxious after Stiles first came. They drive for about two hours, outside of the community and through some winding back roads. Derek has spent about a month tracking some news stories about a man who has achieved impossible things over the past year or so, ever since he was hospitalized after an animal attack in the woods. Definitely a werewolf, and hopefully he can lead Derek to whoever turned him. 

At one point Scott looks in the rearview mirror. “Oh, hey.” He reaches back to Stiles’ carseat and shows Derek his stuffed kitty. “Stiles must have dropped this.” 

“Shit. Sheriff’s not back there, is he?” If Stiles doesn’t have his puppy he must be having a meltdowm right now. 

“Nope. Just…what’s the kitten’s name again?” 

“Franklin. I don’t know why he picked the name.” Derek flips on the turn signal. “We’re here. Look professional.” 

First impressions are key in situations like this, when Derek is basically convincing someone to give up everything they know and immediately leave all humans to live with werewolves forever. He walks up to the door and knocks, doing his best to scent and see if the werewolf is alone. In the second before the door swings open he smells it: death. Blood. _Wolfsbane._

Clearly he’s not the only one who’s been tracking this werewolf. 

He leaps forward as the door opens, avoiding the wolfsbane-tipped knife the hunter on the other side swings at him. He tears out that hunter’s throat and turns to face the next one. He can see the body of the werewolf he came to rescue pinned to the wall with a knife. If he had gotten here even two hours earlier they might have been gone before the hunters ever showed up. 

Snarls and growls come from the doorway, suggesting Scott is right behind him and is taking on some hunters of his own, but he’s too preoccupied to look. He has four hunters practically on top of him and they’re clearly well-trained. It’s been far too long since Derek has been in genuine combat and it’s taking all his power just to stay alive. 

He gets a lucky break when a hunter falls into one of his feints, and he rips the idiot’s throat out easily. That shakes one of the others, who stumbles and gets Derek’s claws in his throat as well. Once it’s two-on-one it’s a much easier fight and he finishes up, breaking one’s neck and slicing open the belly of the other just because he feels like it. 

He turns to see if Scott needs help just in time to see Scott bathing in an arterial spray from his last opponent. There are bodies scattered all over the floor. The whole thing probably took only about five minutes. 

“Goddamn it,” Scott says, chest heaving. “That was— ” 

There’s a scuffling from the corner of the room and Derek turns just as a gunshot rings out. If he had been a second slower it would have gone straight into his brain, but as it is it only gets his shoulder. The pain is immediate, thick and numbing and spreading. It’s a wolfsbane bullet. 

Scott is across the room before the shooter can reload. Derek notes that it’s a young hunter, female, probably hid when the fighting started. She’s young enough that in other circumstances she might have made a happy baby or pet with a good deal of training, but as it is Scott just kills her and drops to his knees beside Derek. 

“Wolfsbane,” Derek grits out. “Get it out.” 

“I can’t, I don’t have…” 

“Call Deaton. Get me home. _Hurry_.” 

Scott picks him up and half-drags him out the door. The pain is so bad he almost passes out. He slumps in the front seat as Scott climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car up, phone at his ear. There’s something under Derek and he pulls it out with a practically useless hand. Franklin, Stiles’ kitty. It smells like his little boy and he clutches it to him as Scott speeds towards home. 

X 

It takes Stiles a while to realize that anything is wrong. Uncle Peter lets him and Donovan watch two more _Star Wars_ moves before giving them a puzzle to work on and disappearing into the kitchen. Stiles isn’t very good at telling time but he remembers that Daddy said he would be back for dinner and it’s already dark outside. 

When Uncle Peter comes back into the living room Stiles tugs his pant leg. “Uncle Peter, is my Daddy home yet?” 

Uncle Peter looks kind of funny. “Not yet, pup. He’s running a little late. But he gave me permission to give you a popsicle for dessert tonight, so let’s hurry up and eat.” 

Stiles is too excited about dessert to realize that Uncle Peter is acting strange, but when Uncle Peter lets him have _two_ chocolate popsicles after dinner he realizes something must be wrong. “Where’s Daddy?” he asks after Uncle Peter wipes his mouth off. 

“He’s… not home yet, honey.” 

“Where is he?” 

“I just told you he isn’t home yet. You might be sleeping here tonight.” 

“Why?” 

“Because…because he got a little hurt today.” 

Stiles panics. “Is my Daddy dead?” he cries, reaching out to grip Uncle Peter’s shirt. Daddy isn’t supposed to ever get hurt! Daddy’s magic, he’s a _werewolf_ , so he can’t die like Stiles’ real parents did. But Daddy promised to be home by dinner and he’s not, and Uncle Peter’s face is all white… 

“Sh, sh. No, honey, he’s not dead.” Uncle Peter picks him up and holds him tight while Donovan sits on the floor, chocolate-rimmed mouth wide open with shock. “I promise he’s not dead. He just got very badly hurt and the doctor is helping him. Sh, sweetheart.” 

“I want my Daddy!” 

“You can see him in a little while, once he’s better.” Uncle Peter pats his back, walking him around the room. Stiles’ chest feels all tight. He has panic attacks sometimes and Daddy is the only one who can make it better. What if Uncle Peter is lying to him and Daddy’s gone _forever?_ He lets out a hiccupy wail and buries his face in Uncle Peter’s chest. 

Uncle Peter keeps hushing him for a long, long time, until his phone beeps. “Okay…okay, honey, Dr. Deaton says he’ll be all right. Would you like to go see him?” 

“P-promise?” 

“Yes, I promise. Donovan, put your shoes on.” 

Stiles can’t stop shaking as Uncle Peter carries him across the street. He’s never seen Daddy hurt before, or even sick. What if he’s too hurt to give cuddles or carry Stiles around anymore? 

Then Stiles remembers that Daddy had been with humans. Humans had hurt Daddy. He hides his face in Uncle Peter’s shoulder. He’s never hated being a human more than at this moment. 

X 

Scott had driven like a maniac to get Derek home, all while shouting on the phone to Deaton. Derek had honestly thought they weren’t going to make it. His vision had gone all grey and his thoughts were starting to stretch and break apart like taffy by the time Scott got him home and Deaton was bending over him. 

Even then it had seemed like they might have been too late, but Deaton had gotten the bullet out of him and he felt himself slowly coming back. “Fuck,” he grumbles when he can finally talk again. “Goddamn it… _fuck!_ ” 

“The good news is you’re not dying,” Deaton says mildly as he strips off his gloves. 

“Are you sure? Because it feels like it.” 

“I’m sure. Unfortunately the wolfsbane has poisoned your bloodstream, and there’s nothing I can do about that. You’ll be weakened for a few days before it works itself out of your system.” 

“Are you fucking kidding? It’s still _in_ me?” 

“It won’t kill you. You’ll just be a little weak and uncomfortable.” 

Derek groans. Everything hurts. He’s not used to pain like this, a constant dull ache all over his body. He thumps his head against his pillow grumpily and sees that Franklin is still lying next to him. He must have been holding it when Scott carried him inside. The sight softens him and he reaches for it just as the door downstairs opens and closes. He can instantly hear a panicked heartbeat. “Daddy?” he hears Stiles cry. 

“Shit,” he mutters, struggling to sit up and throwing a blanket over the bloody bandage on his shoulder. There’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Come in,” he calls, trying to keep his voice normal. 

Peter comes in, carrying Stiles. The poor baby’s face is all red and blotchy as though he’s been crying for a long time and he holds his arms out to Derek as soon as he’s through the door. “D-daddy!” he hiccups. 

“Daddy’s okay, pup. Come here.” It hurts too much to reach for him so Derek just lets Peter lay him on his lap. Stiles feels heavier than normal, an annoying side effect of the wolfbane, but Derek tries not to let his discomfort show. “Oh, my poor sweet boy. Don’t cry. Daddy’s right here.” 

“B-bad people hurt you?” 

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry, Uncle Scott and Daddy took care of them.” Derek kisses Stiles’ forehead. He can feel the grimace of pain on his face and tries to rearrange it into a smile. “The doctor was just about to tell me how long it will be before I’m all better. Alan?” 

Deaton looks apologetic. “You should be back to full capacity in…five days, maybe. More likely a week.” 

Derek catches himself before he swears again. With the way he feels right now he can’t even get out of bed, let alone take care of the baby. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” 

Derek looks at Peter. “Can you take care of Stiles?” 

“Of course. I have an extra crib I’ll put up in Donovan’s room.” 

Stiles’ eyes go wide with horror. “No, Daddy!” 

“Sweetheart, I just won’t be able to take care of you until I’m better.” 

“But Daddy c-can’t be here all alone! What if you need me?” Stiles hugs him so tightly it hurts. Derek sighs, touched by his devotion and unable to deny him. He looks up at Peter again. “Could you…?” 

Peter from a year ago might have bitched, but now he just inclines his head. “I’ll bring the spare crib and set it up for Donovan downstairs.” 

“Thank you.” Derek pets Stiles’ hair. “All right, sweetheart. You’ll stay here with Uncle Peter and Donovan. But Daddy needs to rest for a while, okay?” 

Stiles chews his lip. “Can’t Uncle Peter give you a magic touch, Daddy?” 

“No, baby, they don’t work on something like this. But why don’t you try? I bet you can make me feel much better.” 

Stiles furrows his brow and hesitantly reaches out. Derek guides his hand to his shoulder and puts it right over the entrance wound. It throbs a little, but he doesn’t let it show. “Is it working, Daddy?” Stiles whispers. 

“Absolutely, pup. And guess what? You left Franklin in the car today. When Uncle Scott was driving me home I held him and he made me feel much better. I didn’t know _he_ was magic too, did you?” 

Stiles shakes his head, eyes wide. “You have to keep him, Daddy,” he whispers. “He’ll make you better.” 

“Okay, I will. I’ll keep him right here with me until I’m better, and then he’ll go back with you to keep you safe. Give me a kiss now.” 

Stiles kisses his cheek and then clings to him so tightly Derek can’t help but let out a little sound of pain. “Don’t go away, Daddy,” he sniffles. 

“Oh, my little boy. I’d never leave you, pumpkin. Never ever.” Derek kisses him back and nods to Peter. “Daddy needs to nap now, but Uncle Peter will bring you back in for a kiss before night-night.” 

“Promise you’re okay?” 

“Pinky-promise.” Derek passes him back over and holds his breath until they’ve left the room. Then he exhales and slumps against the pillows. “You’re sure I’m not dying?” he grits out to Deaton. 

“Pinky-promise.” Deaton packs up his stuff. “Rest as much as you can and you’ll be back to normal in no time.” 

Derek hopes so. Something tells him that without his Daddy Stiles might be melting down very, very soon. 

X 

Stiles doesn’t like Daddy being hurt. 

Uncle Peter has to wake him up in the morning and change his diapers and give him his baths. He loves Uncle Peter, but he’s not Daddy. Stiles is used to things being done a certain way and throwing off the routine like this makes him feel all itchy. 

Worst of all, he barely gets to see Daddy. He’s always in the bedroom napping, so Stiles only sees him in the morning and maybe once during the day and then before beddy-byes for his kiss. He’s never been without Daddy for this long for as long as he can remember and he hates it. 

During the day he plays with Donovan. He’s nicer now than he used to be but sometimes he can still be bossy and mean and Stiles just wants to play alone. One day Donovan won’t stop pestering him and Stiles wants to go into his playpen. Uncle Peter is in the kitchen so Stiles decides to try and walk over on his own. Sometimes he forgets that he’s too little to do stuff like that. 

His legs aren’t strong enough to support himself and he tumbles down. His ankle does a funny twist and sends a jolt of pain up his leg. He immediately wails and Uncle Peter runs out from the kitchen to kneel besides him. 

“What happened?” 

“I hurt my leg!” Stiles covers his face with his hands as Uncle Peter wraps his hand around his ankle and tries to take the pain. He doesn’t want Uncle Peter’s magic touch, he wants Daddy’s! 

“You twisted it. It’s okay, I took the pain. You’ll be fine.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “N-no, I’m hurt! I need to go in Daddy’s bed!” 

“Your Daddy’s already there—” 

“I need to go too!” Stiles is always supposed to go to Daddy’s bed when he’s hurt or sick, that’s where he gets all better. His leg doesn’t hurt anymore, but that doesn’t matter, he still needs Daddy. “Please!” 

Uncle Peter sighs. 

X 

Derek is bored out of his mind. He’s sore, exhausted, and constantly feels queasy, so he can’t get out of bed. He can’t concentrate enough to read anything or get any work done. He’s just about desperate enough to ask Peter to bring in the television and is considering it when he hears faint sobs coming from downstairs. He frowns. “Peter?” he calls, knowing that only the werewolf will be able to hear him. “What’s going on?” 

After about a minute Peter sticks his head in the door. “Keep your pants on, everything is fine.” 

“I hear crying.” 

“Stiles twisted his ankle. I took the pain. But he’s claiming he’s hurt as a ruse so I’ll bring him into your room.” Peter rolls his eyes. “He’s just using it as an excuse to see you. He’s completely fine, Derek.” 

Derek knows that’s probably true, but he figures he wouldn’t mind some time with his little boy right now. He’s been a little worried that being separated from him for days like this might weaken their bond. A baby snapping back from regression after this long is incredibly rare, but Derek has always been overly cautious. “Bring him in.” 

“You’re supposed to be resting.” 

“He’ll be quiet if I tell him to be. I can’t rest knowing he’s upset. Just get him.” 

Peter rolls his eyes but appears minutes later with a sniffling Stiles. “Oh no,” Derek croons, reaching out so Peter can transfer Stiles into Derek’s arms. “What happened, baby?” 

“H-hurt my foot, Daddy.” Stiles presses his face into Derek’s uninjured shoulder, breath heaving like he’s about to have a panic attack. Derek feels terrible. He’s Stiles’ lifeline in this community, his complete source of love and care. Removing him as Stiles’ primary caregiver was obviously going to destabilize the poor baby. 

“This foot, sweetheart?” He wraps his hand around the ankle, feeling that there’s no more pain to take, which is good. He’s too weak to take it. “Well, I think it’s best if you stay here with Daddy until you’re all better.” 

Stiles immediately relaxes, practically melting against Derek in a boneless heap. “I’ll call if I need you,” Derek says to Peter, rubbing Stiles’ back soothingly. 

Peter rolls his eyes once more but retreats. Derek cuddles Stiles until his heartrate has returned to normal. “Let’s have Franklin come help,” Derek says gently, putting the stuffed animal into Stiles’ arms. Stiles clutches the toy gratefully, still sniffling a little as he calms down. 

“I don’t like Daddy being hurt,” Stiles whispers after a while. 

“I don’t like it very much either, sweetheart. But I’m getting better and better by the day.” 

“Bad humans hurt you, didn’t they?” 

“Yes. But like I said, they won’t ever do it again.” 

Stiles whimpers, face still pressed into Derek’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“Because ‘m human.” Stiles sounds like he might cry again. “I’m sorry ‘m bad, D-Daddy.” 

“Stiles!” Derek pulls away so he can looks at Stiles directly. “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re not bad, you’re my special baby boy. Not a single human who lives here with us is bad, that’s why they’re here.” He hugs Stiles tightly. “Little Stiles with his big smile and laugh and cuddles? How on earth could such a perfect boy be bad? No, my little one isn’t bad at all.” 

Stiles sniffles. “I d-don’t want to be human anymore.” 

“But if you weren’t human you wouldn’t be Daddy’s special little prince. You wouldn’t even be here, that would make Daddy so sad. What would he do without his favorite little boy?” 

“Wh-what if I become bad?” 

“You won’t, sweet boy. That’s why you stay little, so you don’t grow up into a bad human. Tiny little babies like you can’t ever be bad as long as you stay right here with Daddy.” Derek keeps rocking him until the sniffles have finally stopped. “There we go. Blow your nose, baby boy. Do you feel better?” 

Stiles nods hesitantly and snuggles in. “Do you feel better, Daddy?” 

“Maybe a little bit.” “

Do you need another magic touch?” 

“I think so.” Derek guides Stiles’ hand to his shoulder. “Oh, wow, you’re so good at this! That feels much, much better.” 

Stiles beams. “I should stay here in case you need more.” “

Okay. But right now Daddy needs to take a little nap, all right?” 

“I can tell you a bedtime story.” 

Derek smiles and adjusts Stiles so they’re both laying more comfortably. “That sounds perfect.” 

Stiles screws up his face, concentrating hard and choosing his words carefully. “Once upon a time there was…a baby boy named Stiles who lived with his Daddy in their big house in the woods.” 

“A Daddy and a Stiles,” Derek murmurs. “This story has my favorite characters.” 

“And one day there was…a _dragon_ , and the dragon said he knew where there was treasure, so Daddy and Stiles got on his back and flew away to where the treasure was…” Stiles’ voice pitches excitedly as he gets into the story and Derek smiles, closing his eyes as the little boy’s voice sends him off into sleep. 

When he wakes up a few hours later Stiles is sound asleep, still cuddled in his arms. Derek feels a little better after the long nap. “Peter?” he calls softly, knowing the other werewolf will hear. Sure enough, moments later Peter pokes his head in. “Can you take Stiles to his crib?” 

Peter nods and lifts the baby into his arms. Stiles mumbles in his sleep, thumb firmly in his mouth, but doesn’t wake. “One second,” Derek whispers, leaning forward to kiss Stiles’ forehead before nodding to Peter. “Thanks, Peter. Really.” 

“You know me, I live to serve. Get some more rest.” 

Derek nods and closes his eyes again. This recuperating bullshit is boring, but he has to get well soon. He has a baby boy to take care of. 

X 

Things are much better once Stiles is allowed to spend time in Daddy’s bed. Daddy seems stronger and stronger each time Stiles sees him and he reads Stiles stories or tickles him or plays little games with him. Stiles always falls asleep with his head nuzzled against Daddy’s chest and wakes up in his crib like magic. 

After almost a week he wakes up early and snuggles under his blanket, waiting for Uncle Peter to come and get him. He’s going to make Daddy another get well card today. He’s made five so far and Daddy keeps each one on the nightstand. Uncle Peter showed him how to fold up a piece of paper to make a pop-up. 

He hears footsteps and yawns, sitting up so Uncle Peter can lift him. When the door opens it isn’t Uncle Peter at all, it’s Daddy. Stiles’ face breaks out into a huge grin. “Daddy!” 

“Good morning, sweetheart!” Daddy lifts him out of the crib easily and kisses his forehead. His face isn’t all pale anymore. 

“Are you all better now?” 

“Much, much better. Uncle Peter and Donovan went back home.” Daddy smiles at him. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, you helped me a lot. And here, you can have _him_ back now.” He passes Franklin into Stiles’ arms. “I told him that now that we know he’s magic he has to look out for you and keep you safe.” 

Stiles hugs his kitty happily, nuzzling against Daddy’s shoulder. He’s missed being cuddled like this. “Don’t get hurt again, okay, Daddy?” 

“I’ll see what I can do. Now look here, see what Daddy has.” Daddy shifts Stiles over to his hip and shows him a box in his hand. It’s some kind of harness with lots of complicated straps. “We’re going to use this to strap you to my chest, so I can carry you around while I’m still getting my strength back. I’ll show you.” Daddy puts him down and gets the harness out of the box. When he puts it on Stiles can see that there are plenty of straps in front to go around his arms and legs, keeping him upright. Daddy lifts him into the harness. His legs are pulled up like he’s sitting down, but they dangle almost to Daddy’s knees, and his head rests right against Daddy’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat. “There,” Daddy says, satisfied. “Nice and comfy.” 

Stiles giggles and swings his feet. It’s like he’s flying. This would be a good way to go on a walk with Daddy. A voice way deep in his mind whispers that it would be embarrassing to be seen like this, strapped to Daddy and unable to move himself, but that voice is silly. Daddy says he just has to ignore it and someday it’ll go away forever. 

“Now, since I’m still a little tired, I thought we should just have a nice quiet day together,” Daddy says, arms around Stiles’ midsection so he can hug him close. “Daddy’s thinking couch cuddles and a Disney marathon. Does that sound good?” 

“ _Tangled_ first, Daddy?” Stiles likes _Tangled_ best. Daddy’s favorite is _Beauty and the Beast_ , that one’s okay too. 

“You got it, pup.” Daddy walks downstairs with Stiles still in his new harness and makes Stiles a bottle. Stiles drinks it, all nuzzled up against Daddy on the couch. It feels so good to have Daddy back to normal. He thinks about how awful it had been when Uncle Peter first told him Daddy was hurt, how frightened he was every day, and he suddenly isn’t hungry for his milk anymore. 

“I was really scared, Daddy,” he whispers, pressing his face into Daddy’s chest. “I thought…I thought you might _die_.” His voice shakes and tears fill his eyes at the memory of it. 

Daddy hushes him gently, kissing his forehead. “I know, my sweet boy, but I’m right here. I won’t ever leave you.” 

“If you went away forever I’d want to go too,” Stiles whimpers. 

“Sh, sh. We don’t ever have to worry about that. But if something happened to Daddy, you’d go to Uncle Peter. And if Uncle Peter couldn’t take you, you’d go to Uncle Scott. Daddy has it all figured out so you don’t even have to worry your little head about it.” 

Stiles frowns. Something seems funny about that. He’s _Daddy’s_ baby boy, not anybody else’s. “But wouldn’t I just…get big again?” 

“No, pumpkin, you won’t ever get big again. You’re always going to stay here, and to stay here you have to be little. But we don’t have to think about it, because Daddy will never, ever leave his pup.” Daddy gently pushes the bottle back into his mouth. When it’s empty he lifts Stiles, burps him, and kisses his cheek. “Now let’s have fun.” 

He turns on the move and pulls Stiles in close For a few minutes Stiles thinks more about what Daddy had said, that Stiles will _always_ be little even if he’s not with Daddy. The thoughts make him feel like he has a tummyache. Then Rapunzel’s song starts and he lets the thoughts slip away. Like Daddy said, they won’t ever have to worry about it, because Daddy will always be right here. He slips his thumb into his mouth and watches the movie eagerly, hearing the reassuring thumps of Daddy’s heart right under his ear.


	7. Derek's Baby Boy--Derek's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: It would be really great if Daddy Derek had a birthday one shot (cuz my birthdays coming up)
> 
> Happy birthday, prompter! I hope this is what you wanted! Since it's from Derek's perspective, it has plenty of that creepy "Derek is a master manipulator but thinks everything he does is fine and normal" I so love to write :)

Derek has never been one to like a big fuss. He’s always kind of preferred to fly under the radar, celebrate big moments with a beer and a quiet evening at home. 

That changed once Stiles came along— he can’t resist taking any chance to spoil the baby, throwing him lavish parties for his birthdays or Christmas or just because. Still, he always makes sure that it’s Stiles, not him, who’s the center of attention. 

For his thirtieth birthday, though, he figures he might as well let the pack throw him a party. Why not? If they want to celebrate their Alpha he won’t deny them. Besides, Stiles will love a party, and if it helps Scott and Kira integrate their baby girl even further into the pack he’s all for it. 

When his birthday dawns he wakes up feeling good. His twenties had been a whirlwind, full of horrific lows and staggering highs, and he’s ready for a decade of sheer domestic bliss. He hums in the shower and heads down to get the baby, thinking he’ll dress Stiles in that little wolf pup onesie he loves so much. 

He’s given himself a little birthday present this year, aging Stiles down over the past few weeks. No shots necessary this time. Stiles is pretty susceptible to suggestion, so Derek has just gently been nudging him towards a younger age. Whenever the baby gets talkative Derek just gently says, “Shh,” and slides a pacifier into his mouth. He’s made his tone softer and higher, the same tone he used when he had Stiles at infant age. Every few days he’ll put on Stiles’ mittens and lay him down in the bassinet instead of his playpen while Derek works. 

Stiles has responded well to the suggested and is at just the right age for today. He’s already awake and Derek can hear him singing to himself and his toys, a mindless little song that makes Derek smile. Every so often it’s nice to have the baby acting extremely young, totally dependent on Derek and full of bubbly adoration for his Daddy. “Good morning, my sweetest boy,” he coos as he leans into the crib and lifts Stiles out. 

Stiles beams at him. “Dada!” He nuzzles in, smelling of his lotion and baby powder. “Happy birthday!” His voice is sweet and high and lisping and Derek grins, filled with love for him. 

“Thank you very much!” He changes the baby into a fresh diaper and the wolf onesie, pausing to nibble at his toes so he can hear the baby’s happy shriek. 

“Birthday kisses!” Stiles demands when Derek lifts him back up. 

Derek laughs. Every year on the baby’s birthday he gives him kisses for the number of years he’s been with Derek— one, two, and three so far. “Hm, that means Daddy gets _thirty_ kisses from his baby.” 

Stiles’ mouth drops open, eyes wide at the high number. He tries to count on his fingers but gets confused. “More than ten, Dada?” 

“Yes, three times more. How about you just give Daddy as many kisses as you can?” 

Stiles responds enthusiastically to the challenge, smacking big kisses onto Derek’s cheeks as Derek carries him downstairs. “Dada’s thirty?” Stiles asks when he’s exhausted himself. 

“That’s right, sweetheart.” 

“How old ‘m I?” 

“Well, you don’t age like other people, remember? So you’ve been with Daddy for three years, but you’re only eighteen months old right now.” 

Stiles looks adorably confused. “Next year?” 

“You mean will you be older next year? No, my love, you’ll never be thirty like Dada, or even fifteen, or ten.” 

“Never?” 

“Never ever.” Derek answers the questions patiently. He knows it’s natural for babies at this stage to be curious. Now that Stiles has been with Derek for a long time doubts and confusion can start to creep back in as he comes to terms with the fact that he’ll never know anything other than this life. “Daddy gets older each year because he’s not a baby like you. See how different we are?” He puts his arm against Stiles so he can compare the lack of hair on Stiles’ arm to his own. “You’re not all big and hairy like Dada, are you?” 

Stiles giggles. “Nuh-uh!” 

“Little ones like you don’t have to worry about ages for real, you just have to know that you’re Daddy’s little baby.” Derek makes him a bottle to tide him over before the party. He grabs a selfie of the both of them just because he’s in a good mood and Stiles looks so adorable in his onesie, then puts Stiles on his play mat to amuse himself while Derek cleans up. 

The pack arrives soon bearing food and gifts. Scott is toting Allison in yet another elaborate dress. She’s hiding her face in his shoulder. She was chosen for her lineage, not her temperament, so it’s taken her much longer than most babies to regress, but progress has definitely been made in her attachment to Scott and Kira. “Can you say happy birthday to your Uncle Derek?” Scott asks her gently, craning his head to look her in the eyes. 

She whines but hesitantly looks up and whispers, “Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you, honey.” Derek takes her from Scott and kisses her cheek. Her scent has just the faintest notes of Kate, enough to stir his memories. He pats her bottom to feel the diaper she’s wearing, feeling a small flame of smug satisfaction. The Argent line will end with her, and she’ll end her days playing with dolls and drinking bottles. It’s hard not to enjoy that victory. 

Erica has brought a cake— “Plain vanilla, because you’re boring”— and Derek takes Stiles out of his onesie, dressing him only in his diaper and a large bib before putting him in his high chair. He rarely approves of letting the baby have sweets but today he cuts a slice of cake for him and puts it on a plate. He’s delighted when Stiles responds immediately by eating with his hands, making a mess but grinning hugely as he eats. Derek snaps about fifty pictures of him before whisking him upstairs to rinse off. 

Then it’s time for presents. Stiles wants to go first, of course— he’d made Derek’s presents last week when Scott was babysitting. Scott bring them over as Derek pulls Stiles into his lap. First is a brightly colored card with a drawing of Derek and Stiles. Derek is pleased to see that Stiles has drawn himself as very tiny in comparison to Derek. _I Love You DADDY!_ the inside reads in messy handwriting. Derek makes a note to ask Deaton about a shot to regress Stiles’ literacy, he wouldn’t mind teaching the baby how to shape his letters or learn to read again. 

Derek lets Stiles help him unwrap the gift. It’s a book titled _Daddy and Me_ , with a cartoon drawing on the front of a man who looks like Derek and a boy who looks like Stiles. Derek knows what this is. The Society offers personalized books like this. He flips open to the first page, which reads: _Why I love my Daddy…_

The first page has an illustration of the man smiling down at the swaddled boy. _Out of all the babies in the world, my Daddy chose me!_

The second page, featuring the squalling baby and the man with a face of patience and love. _I didn’t make things easy for my Daddy at first, but he never stopped loving me!_

“Oh, sweetheart! I love it.” Derek kisses Stiles’ head. “We’ll read the whole thing before bedtime, all right?” 

Stiles beams. “Uncle Scott helped!” 

“Thank you, Uncle Scott.” Derek grins at Scott, noticing that Allison is hiding her face again. Poor thing. 

Stiles helps him open the rest of his gifts— mostly books, some socks, a new coffeemaker from Erica and Boyd. Everything simplistic and practical, just as he prefer. Stiles, though, looks concerned for him. “Daddy,” he stage-whispers at one point. “Nobody’s giving you any _toys_.” 

Derek chuckles. “Grown-ups don’t get toys, sweetheart, toys are just for little ones.” 

Stiles makes a face as if to say he doesn’t think much of being a grown-up. 

After the gifts are finished they all just sit around and chat until Allison starts to get fussy with all the attention being paid to her. Derek makes everyone take slices of the leftover cake when they leave, Stiles doesn’t need any more sugar. Stiles is still a little hyped up so Derek straps him to his chest with the harness, letting him swing his legs and chatter to himself while Derek cleans up from the party. 

“Dada, how old is Uncle Scott?” 

“Twenty-five.” 

“How old is Ally?” 

“I think she’s twenty-two months, but you’d have to ask her Mommy and Daddy.” 

“Will she get older?” 

“No, she’s like you. Just like Donovan and Jackie and Danny. You all stay little.” Derek finishes cleaning up and heads upstairs. “Are you sleepy enough for naptime yet, sweetheart?” 

“Nuh-uh, Daddy.” 

“Hm. Well, why don’t we read our new story until you are?” Derek puts on his pyjamas and sits in the rocking chair with him, opening up the storybook. He reads it straight through the first time. It gently tracks through the usual stages of a baby’s early days with their daddy— the tantrums, cuddles, new toys, and eventual realization that they belong with Daddy forever. When he finishes the last page Stiles is still wide awake, so Derek flips back to the beginning. “Daddy remembers this day,” he says, tapping the illustration of the little boy being chosen by his Daddy. “Do you remember this, pumpkin?” 

Stiles stares at the picture, brow furrowed, and slowly shakes his head. 

“There were lots and lots of little babies for Daddy to choose from that day, but _you_ caught my eye right away. You were sleeping, wrapped up all tight in your little blue blanket, and Daddy held you and told the nurse that you were the baby I wanted to take home.” 

He flips the page and smiles at the illustration. “And Daddy definitely remembers all the temper tantrums! You were pretty fussy back then.” 

“Like Ally?” 

“Yes, just like Ally. But things are so much better now, aren’t they?” 

Stiles nods happily and finally yawns. “There we go,” Derek says fondly, carrying him over to the crib. “Now the little boy is all ready for his nap.” 

“Will it still be your birthday when I wake up, Dada?” 

“It sure will, pup.” Derek turns on the mobile over the crib and waits until his baby falls deeply asleep before he leaves the nursery. As he waits for Stiles to wake up he scrolls through the pictures he’s taken today. Stiles in his lap. Stiles happily mashing cake all over. Stiles helping him over his birthday presents, face alight with joy. 

This might just be his best birthday ever.


	8. Daddy's Baby Boy-- Kate AU (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Rape/Non-Con elements, non-con touching, humiliation.
> 
> For the prompt: "could I issue a darker infantilism prompt, sort of an AU within an AU (that is, an AU within this Daddy!Derek/Baby!Stiles 'verse), wherein Kate is alive and about Derek's age, and the Institute manages to get the jump on her so Derek "adopts" her along with Stiles? Like, makes it very clear early on that Stiles is the "good" kid. Punishes Kate a lot, humiliates her, regresses her physically without regressing her mentally because Derek likes how furious and helpless she is to do anything about it. Bonus if Allison is in it, too, and doesn't even register Kate as her aunt anymore, even if she's still not fully regressed either--like, it's easier to just go along with it, and Scott and Kira aren't so bad, and Allison sort of distances herself from Kate and drifts closer to Stiles because she doesn't want to be punished for being a "bad baby" like Kate. Plus, Derek gets to give Stiles' regression and attachment to him an extra boost because he can praise him for being so good, whereas Kate goes through a total mindfuck eventually by thinking about trying to be good too to show up her "brother"--even if it doesn't work, because she'll always be Derek's "brat".
> 
> It just strikes me as kind of one of the worst ways Kate could be treated, especially if she's being, like, constantly induced to fill her diapers and then Derek, like, feigns disappointment in her inability to be a "big girl," then leaves her there in her mess awhile longer because he's busy feeding Stiles or giving him a bath or something. And, like, bath time and changing times alone for Kate would be fantastic because Derek would totally insist on paying extra special attention to her private parts every time, and even though Derek can smell the moment Kate has to use her diaper, he still frequently checks to see if her diaper's wet, and if they're in public he'll change her even if her diaper's still bone dry and leave her exposed for a long time for everyone else to see while he gets her off."
> 
> First off, you guys have to stop being SO GOOD AT PROMPTS. At this point I'm going to be writing these FOREVER.  
> Also, this is, I think, officially the darkest thing I've ever written. Purposeful non-con touching, VERY dark Derek, etc. Probably going to add more to this AU in at least one more Part. (Like the prompt said, I do consider this an AU inside an AU--future Derek's Baby Boy one-shots will not include Kate)

“Daddy, can I tell you a secret? I have a secret, Daddy!” 

“Okay, pup, what’s your secret?” Derek sticks the last empty bottle into the dishwasher and starts it up, Stiles on his hip. Today the baby is feeling clingy, so Derek is carrying him around as he cleans up. 

Stiles leans in until his lips are centimeters from Derek’s ear. “ _Cranberry juice is my favorite,”_ he whispers. 

Derek hides a grin. “I thought it was orange juice.” 

“Was last week but then Uncle Peter only had the juice with pieces, that’s yucky. No pieces in cranberry juice.” 

“How about Daddy gets you some juice now?” 

Stiles nods happily. Derek grabs a sippy cup and fills it with juice before giving it to Stiles. Stiles sucks on it noisily, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. “Daddy, I like cranberry juice even betterer than milk.” 

“But milk keeps you nice and healthy, pup, so you have to drink that every day.” Derek’s cell phone rings and he digs in his pocket with his free hand. “Hello?” 

“Derek? This is Olivia Jones with the Society.” 

Derek frowns. He hasn’t spoken to Olivia since he was going through the adoption process for Stiles. “Hi, Olivia. What can I do for you?” 

“Daddy, who is it?” Stiles asks loudly. 

“Well, I know this is a bit unusual, but…” Olivia takes a deep breath on the other end of the line. “We found her, Derek. Kate Argent. She was living with other hunters. We attacked and killed most of them, but she survived with a few others.” 

Derek freezes. He’d been telling himself for years that Kate was dead. It was the only way he knew to get through the days. “You— you’re sure it’s her?” 

“Yes. We thought about simply putting down the survivors we have in custody, but I thought you might like to make the decision here. We can put her down now, wait for you and your uncle to get here so you can watch, or…work out some other arrangement.” 

“You mean…keep her?” 

“I suppose you wouldn’t want to give her too much agency, but there are plenty of ways you could keep her as a pet. Or another baby, I know you’ve been enjoying your little one. It’s completely your decision. Whatever would help give you closure.” 

Derek closes his eyes. He’d been so happy thinking Kate was gone forever. A part of him just wants to tell Olivia to put a bullet in her head so he can stop thinking about her. 

But then he sees her in his mind’s eye. Those wild eyes, glowing with triumph in the light of his burning house. Her laugh dancing on the wind. He doesn’t just want that laugh silenced— he wants it _replaced_. 

Replaced with a high, insistent cry for Daddy, a soft coo, the sweet babbles he remembers from when he’d aged Stiles down. He thinks of Kate dressed in nothing but a diaper with her hands in mittens. She would hate it so, so much. She would hate it for _years_. But eventually she would give in— forget who she used to be. His mouth is dry at the thought of it. 

“I think we can work something out,” he says hoarsely. 

X 

Kate is ready to die. 

Honestly, when the wolves had stormed in she’d expected nothing less. There had obviously been too many of them, so there was only one way the fight could end. 

Much to her horror, they took hostages. They haven’t even tortured her for information yet. They’ve just left her tied to a bed, completely ignoring her. 

God, she hates werewolves. 

She tries to free her hands one more time, but no luck. She groans just as the door opens and a female werewolf walks in. 

_Finally_. Kate tenses, expecting to be taken somewhere and tortured or killed, but the werewolf does something completely unexpected. She _smiles_. 

Kate pulls back her own lips into a grimace. 

“Oh, none of that,” the woman chides, bending down over Kate. “I think you have _lots_ of reasons to smile, sweetheart. We’ve finally figured out what to do with you. You’ve been given a second chance, isn’t that wonderful?” She pulls a bottle and a syringe out of the pocket of her lab coat. “Now you need to have a little shot, just to keep you still.” 

Her voice is gentle and sort of high-pitched. Kate doesn’t understand and can’t move at all as the woman injects her. She immediately feels like thick lead is spreading through her veins. She can’t even moan as the woman unties her from the bed, puts her in a wheelchair, and wheels her out of the room. 

Her eyes have drifted shut by the time the ride finally ends. She feels sort of faraway and floaty, but she can still hear. “Is this our little one?” a man’s voice says as Kate is lifted from the wheelchair and placed on some kind of cot. 

“Well, she will be soon.” A hand strokes Kate’s hair away from her face. 

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to do this. I certainly couldn’t. I can love the innocent humans, but it’s hard to put my feelings towards their kind aside.” 

“Now, now, that’s what makes us better than them. She’ll never hurt anyone else again. We’ll treat her just like any other baby.” Kate realizes with horror that she’s being undressed. “But first we have to get rid of all this yucky hair, don’t we?” 

The man laughs. “You don’t have to talk to her like that, she’s totally out. She can’t hear you.” 

“You don’t know that.” Someone is rubbing something on Kate’s legs and— oh God— over her pubic hair. “We need to make all this skin nice and soft, don’t we? Oh, yes, that’s much better. He wanted her to have the full array of shots, right?” 

“Right. No mobility, no bladder control, and most importantly, no voice. He wants her to only communicate by crying.” The woman is still running her fingers through Kate’s hair. 

The man snorts. “Something tells me that no matter what he says he won’t be treating her like any other baby.” 

“Yeah, but can you blame him?” The woman’s voice gets far away as Kate drifts farther off into unconsciousness. Her last rational thought before she’s under completely: 

_What the hell is going on?_

X 

Daddy has been acting funny. For the past few days he’s been having lots of private conversations with other werewolves, and there’s something going on in the spare bedroom upstairs. Stiles is starting to get a little upset because Daddy is barely paying any attention to him. 

He’s thinking about maybe throwing a little tantrum just as Daddy comes and gets him from his nap and carries him over to the rocking chair. “I have some news for you, little prince,” he says, stroking Stiles’ hair from its sleep-mussed state. 

“What, Daddy?” 

“You know that you’re my favorite little boy in the world, right?” 

Stiles smiles, of course he knows that. “Uh-huh.” 

“And Daddy could never, ever love any other baby as much as you. But Daddy has decided that our family should be a little bit bigger, so guess what? You’re going to get a baby sister.” 

Stiles’ mouth falls open. He knows his friend Johnny has a baby sister, but most of his friends are the only baby in their family. “Who, Daddy?” 

“Her name is Katie. She’s waiting for us to pick her up tomorrow. Now, she’s a very, very little baby. She’s going to be fussy for a long time, but I know you can be my good boy and show her how to behave.” 

“Like with Ally?” 

Daddy smiles. “Very much like Allison. But she’s going to be a naughty little girl, much naughtier than Ally ever was. I need you to promise me that you’ll keep a close eye on her and tell Daddy if she’s misbehaving.” 

Stiles puffs up with importance. “Promise, Daddy!” 

Daddy smiles. “Good boy, Stiles! Would you like to see her nursery?” 

“Okay.” Stiles feels kind of nervous as Daddy carries him to the spare room. He knows he’s Daddy most favorite boy in the world, but what if Daddy loves the new baby more than him? She’s going to be so little that Daddy will have to give her lots of attention, and maybe he won’t have time for Stiles anymore. 

Daddy pushes open the spare room door and Stiles’ mouth drops open. It smells like paint and it’s been completely transformed. It’s painted the color of cream and there are pink letters on the wall spelling out _KATE_. There’s a crib and a changing table all covered with frilly pink lace and another rocking chair with a big floppy bunny. Everything has thick straps. “It’s nice, Daddy,” Stiles says approvingly. He can see a picture on the wall blown up of big, up towards the ceiling so the baby will be looking right at it in her crib. “What’s that?” 

“That’s a picture of the people who used to be in Daddy’s family.” Daddy walks him over towards the picture so he can see. Daddy’s in the picture, but he looks really young, and there’s Uncle Peter, and there are lots of people Stiles has never seen before. 

“They look nice, Daddy.” 

“Yes, they were.” Daddy stares at the picture. His face is hard for a second, but then he looks at Stiles and smiles. “And they would have loved you, sweetheart.” 

“And the new baby?” 

Daddy looks sad. “No, they wouldn’t have loved her. Right now the new baby is a very naughty girl. Remember how we talked about how most humans are bad? Little Katie has been with humans for a long time, so she’s not a very good girl. But we’re going to teach her to be a perfect baby, and then everyone will love her.” 

Stiles feels better about the new baby after that. His Daddy is so nice, helping a bad human be a good little baby. “When can I meet her, Daddy?” 

“We’ll leave to go get her early tomorrow morning.” Daddy kisses him as they leave the nursery. “We’re going to be very happy,” he says softly, voice filled with so much satisfaction that Stiles can’t help but smile in return. 

X 

Kate drifts for a long time, dimly aware of the pinpricks of a syringe every so often. She’s just starting to wonder if this is her punishment, to be kept unconscious for the rest of her life, when she finally feels herself starting to swim back up to the surface. 

She realizes with faint worry that even once she can move her hands she can’t really feel her legs. But that’s something she’ll have to worry about later. 

“— asleep for a while now, but she should be opening her eyes any moment,” she hears a voice say. 

“She’s been given all her shots?” 

“Yes. They’ll last for six months.” 

Kate…recognizes that second voice. She thinks. It’s hard to tell with her eyes shut like this, but she struggles to open them. “There we go,” the first voice coos. “She’s a sleepy little thing right now.” 

With a great effort Kate’s eyes finally open and adjust to the light. There’s a woman leaning over her, smiling, and behind her— 

Kate screams. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. It’s been _years_ , and she’d run as far away as she could, and her family said the survivors of the fire had fled and never returned. But it’s _Derek_ standing there, now fully grown. He’s holding a teenage boy in his arms but Kate barely focuses on that. She can only stare in mute horror at the man who must be here to kill her. 

But then Derek smiles. He smiles and bends down, picking her up with one hand. He nestles her against his shoulder, legs bunched up by his chest. The fact that he’s holding two fully grown people in his arms doesn’t seem to be fazing him at all. “Oh my goodness,” he says softly. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Kate?” 

The other boy is staring at her with interest. “This is my baby sister, Daddy?” 

“Yes, this is Kate. Give her a kiss to say hello.” 

The boy leans forward and gives her a wet kiss on her cheek. She can’t move at all to shove him away, it’s like she’s completely paralyzed. “Hi,” the boy says happily. “I’m your big brother Stiles, I’m going to help you be a good baby!” 

Kate looks at Derek in horror. Derek smiles at her. “That’s right,” he says, still in that gentle voice. “You’re never going to hurt anyone again. For the rest of your life you’re going to stay with me and your big brother. After all the naughty things you’ve done you can’t be trusted to behave like an adult, so you’re going to be a little baby now.” He tugs at the blanket around her until it’s loose, then reaches down until she can feel that she’s wearing a diaper. “You’ll wear one of these every day, and you’ll drink from nice bottles, and I’ll take care of your every need.” 

Kate tries to snarl at him. She wants to taunt him, remind him of what she did to wipe that smile off his face, but all that comes out is a high mewling sound. She can’t talk, she can’t move— 

Derek lays her down and takes the blanket off completely. There’s a binding around her breasts that Derek ignores as he shakes out a pink onesie and lays it down next to her. “Did the little girl wet her diaper?” he asks cheerfully as he unwraps the diaper too. “Olivia, can you hold Stiles so I can take care of little Kate?” 

The boy is transferred into the woman’s arms. Kate can hear him giggling, apparently unaware of how completely fucked up this all is. Kate is completely unable to move as Derek separates the folds of her vagina with two fingers and clinically rubs inside of her. “Hm, looks like she’s still dry.” He takes his fingers away and instead rubs his hand over her thighs, which have been completely removed of any hair. Kate shivers, remembering the last time Derek touched her like this. 

He puts on a new diaper and dresses her in the onesie. Then he raises each of her hands and puts on mittens, pulling a drawstring so they’re tight. Kate whimpers again and Derek clucks. “None of that. Let me make one thing clear. We’re not ever going to talk about what happened before. I’m not your victim or your boyfriend anymore, Kate.” Derek smiles, a wide, vindictive, joyful smile. “I’m your Daddy now.” 

X 

She looks exactly the same as Derek remembers. A few more lines on her face, maybe, but the same hair, same eyes, same mouth… 

He can’t stop staring at her as the driver takes them back to his plane. Stiles is talking to her excitedly about her new nursery and toys and how much she’s going to love her Daddy and Kate’s eyes flicker around in terror as she slowly realizes she’s completely trapped. 

It’s going to be very important to reassure Stiles that he’s still Derek’s favorite, so he makes sure to hold the boy close and let the Society driver carry Kate onto the plane. “What do you think?” he asks Stiles softly once they’re inside. “Do you like your new little sister?” 

Stiles shrugs. “Will she be able to play someday, Daddy?” 

“Someday, maybe. Now, because I know you’re going to be such a good big brother to your new sister, Daddy bought you a special present!” Derek takes Stiles to the back of the plane where he’s stashed the gift. It’s a new teddy bear wearing a _Big Brother_ t-shirt, plus a book written by the Society specifically for babies who are having a new member joining the family. “We’ll read this on the plane, okay, sweetheart?” 

Stiles nods happily, hugging his bear. Derek walks over to help buckle Kate into the car seat built into the plane before tipping the Society rep and settling into a seat with Stiles. “Daddy, she needs a pacifier so her ears won’t pop,” Stiles reminds him. 

“That’s right! You’re so smart, pumpkin.” Derek pulls a pacifier out of his pocket, sticks it in his own mouth to make sure it’s clean, then slides it into Kate’s mouth. She tries to clamp her jaw shut but he just chuckles and rubs his thumb along the hinge of her jaw until she can’t help but open up. He gives Stiles a pacifier too and settles in, feeling very satisfied as the plane takes off. 

While they’re in the air he reads the new story to Stiles. He knows Kate is listening too, so he gives plenty of extra details that aren’t in the book. “This page is all about how to keep little babies clean,” he tells Stiles. “Kate will need lots of baths and diaper changes.” 

He can smell, in fact, that Kate’s incontinence shot is working and she’s wet the diaper, but he ignores it for now. He remembers how obsessed with cleanliness Kate used to be. She would always shower after sex. Maybe it was because he was a werewolf and _disgusted_ her— but now he’ll make sure she disgusts herself. “This page shows how to swaddle babies to keep them calm,” he tells Stiles. “We need to make sure Kate is wrapped up nice and tight so she can’t move.” 

When the plane touches down he carries his babies out to the car. He’s put a new rear-facing car seat in for Kate and he straps her in, feeling the lump in her diaper that means she’s used it from both ends. He wonders how long it will take before she finally gives in and lets her pride go and whimpers for a change. 

Stiles naps on the way home but Derek knows Kate is wide awake. He can hear her panicked heartbeat and the sound is deeply soothing, like it’s scratching an itch he’s had for so long he’s almost forgotten it was there. 

X 

God, why hadn’t they just killed her? Kate wishes with all her heart they had just killed her. 

She’s sitting in her own waste— she’d been unable to control herself, it just came out of her without her control. Derek has placed her in some kind of giant bouncer so she’s sitting up. He’s currently playing with the other boy, Stiles. Stiles’ childish giggles are getting under her skin, spooking and irritating her until she wants to just scream. 

Eventually the boy wins whatever game they’re playing and Derek rolls over onto his back so he can lift the boy into the air. The boy shrieks in delight, pin wheeling his arms and legs. “You’re my favorite little baby in the world,” Derek croons to him, kissing his forehead and cheeks. 

“Again, Daddy, again!” 

Derek laughs and lifts him again. Kate can’t stand it. He’s _happy_. She’s imagined that Derek, if he survived, was off being miserable somewhere, but whatever sick fantasy he’s living out right now is clearly exactly what he wants. And now he’s fitting Kate into it. He's finally getting his revenge, and she can only guess at what his plans for her are. 

She has to get out of here. _Now_. 

Finally Kate feels herself use the diaper _again_ and she just has to whimper. She has to get it off of her, regardless of how humiliating it is. Derek comes over to bend down next to her, still holding Stiles. Stiles wrinkles his nose. “Daddy, she did a yucky.” 

“I know, pup, she’s a messy little baby.” Derek lifts her from the bouncer. “Daddy will go make her clean while you play down here.” 

Kate wants the diaper off, but she still feels like screaming and thrashing as Derek carries her up the stairs. “Wait until you see your nursery,” Derek coos. “But I think, since you’re so new and little, it would be best if you slept in your bassinet for a while. That’s in Daddy’s room.” 

He pushes open a door and walks her inside a cream-painted room. “It was so nice getting your nursery ready for you. Daddy bought you lots of clothes and toys. And here, look what Daddy put up.” He walks her towards one of the walls and she sees a picture of the Hales. “Now you’ll have lots of people watching over you,” he says, voice viciously satisfied. 

She’s plunked down on a changing table and Derek strips off the diaper. He makes a small amused sound as he wipes her off. “What a filthy little girl,” he croons. “Next time you’ll have to call for Daddy sooner, won’t you? I’d hate to see you get a rash. Then Daddy would have to put cream all over your little yum-yum.” He turns her over and starts to wipe clean her vagina. “There! All better.” 

She hears herself make an angry little sound and Derek chuckles. “Oh, little girl, you shouldn’t even try that. There’s no point in being angry, because there’s not a single thing you can do. Look at this!” He takes off one of her mittens and unfurls her fingers so her palm is laying up. He places his finger on her palm and she clutches it instinctively, unable to stop herself. Derek chuckles again. “Look at you grabbing Daddy’s finger! No more fists or yucky weapons for you, you’re just a helpless little baby now. Daddy can do whatever he likes to you. So you might as well behave.” He puts her into a new onesie and carries her back downstairs. 

Once again she’s placed in the bouncer and Derek goes back to playing with Stiles, lavishing attention and affection on him. Kate tries to move her fingers, figuring she just has to start getting mobility back _somewhere_ and maybe the rest of her body will follow, but nothing happens. 

She doesn’t know exactly where she is, but the hunters have been suspecting for a while now that werewolves have been living away in secret. They hadn’t known that they were brainwashing humans and keeping them here like _this_. Maybe other hunters will figure it out. Maybe they’ll find her. Maybe… 

“Daddy, maybe Katie did a yucky again,” she hears Stiles say. “Remember that little babies have to be kept clean, that’s what the book said!” 

“That’s a good idea, pumpkin. Do you want to help me check?” 

“Uh-huh!” 

Derek comes back over and lifts her from the bouncer before laying her down on a crinkly playmat on the ground. Kate can feel her cheeks flame bright red as Derek undresses her again and untapes the diaper. “Daddy, she looks funny down there,” Stiles says with his brow furrowed. 

“That’s because she’s a girl, sweetheart, and you’re a boy. She doesn’t have a pee-pee like you, she has a yum-yum. Would you like to feel?” 

Stiles nods and Derek guides his hand. Kate can feel the boy poking clumsily around her vagina. It’s horrible and embarrassing, but she can’t help but respond to the attention. “Daddy!” Stiles says, sounding scandalized. “I think she’s going pee!” 

Derek laughs. “No, pumpkin, she’s just getting wet. That’s what happens to girls when someone is giving their yum-yums attention. It means she’s starting to feel good, like you do when Daddy gives you special touches. What do you think? Should we keep helping her feel good?” 

Stiles nods again and keeps rubbing inside her vagina. Derek’s fingers slip in next to him, focusing right over her clit, and Kate hears herself gasping and whimpering as they mercilessly push her to orgasm. “There we go!” Derek says when it’s over. “She really liked that, didn’t she, Stiles? We’ll have to make sure she gets lots of nice touches to help her settle in.” 

Kate closes her eyes as Derek tapes her diaper back up. “Now she’s sleepy,” Derek tells Stiles. “Daddy will go put her in her bassinet, and then we’ll have some more Stiles and Daddy time before you go beddy-byes.” 

She lets herself go limp as Derek carries her back upstairs and takes her into his bedroom. He puts her into a bassinet, using straps to keep her tied down. “I know these are so unnecessary,” he tells her in that awful, soft voice. “You can’t move anyway. But do you want to know a secret? I _really_ like seeing you all strapped down into your bed.” He kisses her forehead as she tries with everything in her to jerk away. “Now, I’m going to go play with your big brother some more, we certainly don’t want him feeling neglected. He’s my special boy. We live here with lots of other werewolves, and lots of humans are here with us. Wait until you meet our neighbor’s little girl, I bet you’ll like her!” 

He spins a mobile over the bassinet and little lambs start to prance over her head. “Get some rest,” he tells her. “We’ll have lots of fun once you wake up tomorrow morning. I know you’re going to be so fussy for a while, but you’re not stupid, are you Kate? You’ll realize soon enough that there’s no way out and you just have to accept where you are.” 

He kisses her one last time. “Sweet dreams, little one,” he whispers. Kate stares up at him helplessly, unable to move as he leaves her in the bassinet alone.


	9. Derek's Baby Boy--Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt(s): "Fuck me I just thought of something I wanted to request :( Derek giving Stiles a little dress up crown because Stiles is his little prince and he absolutely refuses to take it off ever"
> 
> And another prompt that for some reason I cannot find that requested a sickfic where Derek just cuddles Stiles all day (I'm sorry I can't find that prompt exactly and I'm sorry that this barely follows it anyway, but I hope this is somewhat in the vein of what you wanted, prompter!)
> 
> I didn't plan to write this, like it wasn't in the queue at all and I figured I wouldn't be putting anything up until tomorrow, but (1) my day took a weird nosedive and I became weirdly sad and I just need to get MY EMOTIONS out somehow and (2) the Kate-verse is becoming increasingly dark as I write it so I figured I should temper that with something that is just irredeemably fluffy. So that's all this is. Just straight up fluff so tomorrow when Kate part 2 goes up half of you don't hate me.

Some days, even when there’s nothing really wrong, Stiles isn’t happy. His toys aren’t any fun and his tummy feels weird, like there’s a stone sinking deeper and deep inside of him, and he doesn’t even want to see Daddy. 

He never knows why it happens exactly, but today when he wakes up feeling bad he thinks maybe it’s because of the movie he watched last night. Daddy put on _The Fox and the Hound_ and it was too sad for him. He’d been okay up until Todd got left all alone in the woods. Then he started thinking about all the people who left _him_ alone, and how someday maybe Daddy will drive him somewhere far away and make him stay. 

Daddy realized he was getting upset and switched the movie quickly to something else but it was too late, the sad feelings already got in through the cracks. They made him have bad dreams. He can’t remember them exactly, but he thinks they were about him being big again and not knowing where Daddy is or if Daddy will even recognize him. Now it feels like he’ll _never_ feel better, he’ll just be sad forever and ever. 

He’s so distracted with his yucky thoughts that he doesn’t realize Daddy is here until Daddy picks him up out of his crib. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, tilting Stiles’ face up by his chin. 

Stiles doesn’t feel like talking so he just hides his face in Daddy’s shoulder. 

“Are you sick?” Daddy checks his forehead with a kiss. “Did you have a bad dream?” 

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles says in his softest voice. He loves Daddy but right now he just doesn’t want to talk. 

Daddy hesitates for a second. “Do you just feel yucky, with bad thoughts?” 

Stiles’ eyes fill with tears. He hates having bad thoughts. He’s usually such a good baby. “S-sorry, Daddy.” 

“Why are you sorry, my baby?” Daddy sits on the rocking chair with him. He gives Stiles one of his stuffed animals, a penguin Aunt Kira bought for him. 

Stiles sniffles. “B-baby boys aren’t supposed to have bad thoughts. Just s’posed to be happy. But I c-can’t help it sometimes.” 

“Oh, Stiles.” Daddy hugs him tightly. “You’ll never, ever be in trouble for having bad thoughts. My little boy can have whatever kind of thoughts go through his head. Just so long as he tells Daddy about them, so Daddy can make him feel better.” He does a loud kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Now what will help my pumpkin feel better? A new toy?” 

Stiles shakes his head. It actually feels a little better when Daddy holds him really tight. Like he’s blocking any more bad thoughts from slipping through “Just cuddles, Daddy.” 

“Okay, but Daddy’s going to add some kisses.” Daddy kisses his cheeks and nose and stands up with him. Daddy always carries him the very best way, so Stiles feels perfectly secure like he’ll never fall. 

Sometimes Stiles eats real food for breakfast but when he feels sad it’s too much. Daddy always knows and today he makes a bottle without even asking. Stiles curls up in his lap, drinking the bottle with his eyes closed. Daddy rubs his back. “You are my sunshine,” he sings softly. “My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey…” 

When the bottle is empty Daddy helps him get all the gas out of his belly and then cuddles him again. Stiles feels a little bit better, enough to talk. “Does Daddy ever get sad?” he asks hesitantly. 

“I’m sad when my pup is sad.” Daddy does look a little sad right now. “But my little boy always makes me happy, so nothing else makes me sad, not in the whole world.” 

But Daddy _used_ to be sad all the time. After the bad lady killed his family. Usually Stiles doesn’t like to think about that but today he can’t stop himself. Bad things can happen even to good people like Daddy, and that means someday something bad might happen to _them._

Suddenly there’s fear mixed in with the sadness and he grabs Daddy around the waist. “P-promise you won’t ever leave me in the woods, Daddy,” he hiccups. 

“The _woods?_ Oh, sweetheart. Is this about the movie last night? The nice lady comes back for Todd, I promise. They all live happily ever after. And Stiles and Daddy are going to live happily ever after too.” Daddy squeezes him. “Remember, that’s why Daddy brought Stiles here in the first place, to make sure he would always be safe and happy. Nobody will ever leave my beautiful baby boy alone again.” 

“Wh-what if bad people come?” 

“No bad people will come, the bad people don’t even know we’re here! But if they did, Daddy will growl at them.” Daddy does a growl, Stiles loves to feel it in his chest. “And then they would run away _very_ fast, wouldn’t they?” 

“What if they bring _guns?_ ” 

“Daddy will break them,” Daddy says simply. 

“Wh-what if—” 

“Sweetheart, nothing will ever happen. Remember every time you’ve been lost or upset? Daddy came right away. Daddy will _always_ come.” Daddy’s voice is so confident that Stiles feels himself relaxing. “Right now Daddy just wants to see his little prince smile. Should we go to Uncle Peter’s house and pet Phoenix? Or watch a movie that isn’t sad? Or maybe— ” 

“Dress-up?” Stiles suggests in a tiny voice. 

Daddy smiles and stands, still keeping Stiles cuddled close. “Okay. Let’s play dress-up.” 

Stiles’ dress-up trunk is a new toy. It’s got lots of costumes in it, like doctor and firefighter and even a doggie. He likes to play with his trunk because Daddy takes a picture of him in each costume and helps him try everything on, so he stays with Stiles the whole time. New costumes are added to the trunk all the time and today, as Stiles digs through, he finds a crown. Daddy laughs. “I thought you’d like that.” He puts it on Stiles’ head and beams at him. “Now you really are my little prince, aren’t you?” 

Stiles beams back and Daddy kisses him. “There’s that smile!” 

“Can I keep my crown on, Daddy?” The crown must be magic, Stiles had felt better as soon as it was on. 

“Of course you can. In fact, how about we go for a walk, so everyone can see your new crown?” 

Usually when Stiles feels sad he doesn’t want to see anyone, but he likes the thought of showing off his crown to Daddy’s friends. “Okay, but picture first, Daddy!” 

“As you command, my prince.” Daddy takes out his phone, hugs Stiles tight, and takes a picture. He shows it to Stiles for approval. His eyes are flashing but Stiles can see his big smile. “It’s good,” Stiles says happily. 

Daddy straightens his crown and gets him into his stroller. It’s a little overcast today but Stiles thinks about the Sunshine song Daddy sings to him and decides it doesn’t matter if the sun is out or not. When Daddy gives him that special smile that's just for him, it's like there's sunshine right inside his chest. 

They walk all the way down the block before they see someone. Daddy’s friend Helen is walking her baby girl Heather. “Hey Derek!” Helen says cheerfully. “And oh, _hello_ , your highness.” 

Stiles grins and waves hello to Heather. He used to not like her very much, but now she can talk some and she’s always smiling, so she’s okay. “Daddy got me a crown,” he says proudly. 

“It looks good on you.” Helen winks at Daddy. “Does that mean you’re the Alpha today?” 

Daddy makes a horrified face. “No, no, I’m still the Alpha. Stiles is the Alpha’s little prince. That means he gets to pick what bedtime story we read tonight and what flavor ice cream we have for dessert.” 

Ice cream! Stiles is feeling better by the minute. He waves to Heather again as Daddy starts back towards home. 

Stiles doesn’t want to take his crown off for the rest of the day. Daddy lets him make lots of decisions, like lunch and ice cream and what movie to watch. He picks _The Jungle Book_ because he’s a little man-cub that got adopted by a nice wolf just like Mowgli. It’s like the opposite of yesterday’s sad movie: when Mowgli went out into the woods he didn’t get left all alone, but found a family to love him forever and ever. 

“Daddy?” he asks sleepily as the movie starts to end. “Can I make one more decision, please?” 

“Of course you can, pup.” 

“Can I sleep in Daddy’s room tonight?” 

Daddy straightens his crown and kisses his forehead. “Absolutely.” 

Daddy makes him a nice nest of blankets and pillows in his bed. He takes off Stiles’ crown for the night, but that’s okay, Stiles knows he’s still Daddy’s little prince. Daddy gets in bed with him and cuddles him tightly, singing a lullaby to him softly. Stiles feels a zillion percent better than he did this morning and he drifts off to sleep, knowing that with Daddy holding him close he won’t have a single bad dream.


	10. Derek's Baby Boy--Derek Gets Mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For vangogh's prompt:  
> So like we never really see Derek loose his cool with Stiles so how about a one shot where for once he does. Like maybe stiles somehow finds matches or something that would really affect Derek. If you do matches you can choose to have Stiles not be able to light them or he can. He's not trying to do it on purpose he's just curious. Or it could be something else. I just really want to see Derek get upset with Stiles. 
> 
> Thank you for this great prompt, vangogh! I hadn't expected to go back to the one-shot verse until after the sequel was doe, but I really liked this idea. Hope this is what you had in mind!
> 
> This takes place in the middle of the Derek's Baby Boy epilogue, before Stiles is regressed.

Honestly, there isn’t a day goes by that Derek doesn’t regret teaching Stiles to walk. It had come in handy when Theo had taken him, of course, but beyond that it’s just a constant source of stress. There was that disastrous playdate where he had run off, and countless times where he’d run in socked feet and slipped and hurt himself, and nearly every day he gets into something he shouldn’t. 

It’s starting to make Derek think seriously about regressing him— putting him into an infant state of mind and not teaching him to walk again once he’s aged back up. It just can’t be good for the baby, having such a grown-up ability. It probably gives him ideas. Much more healthy to have him reliant on Derek for movement. 

Derek puts a call in to Deaton to discuss it, leaving Stiles alone in the living room so he won’t overhear. As they talk he absentmindedly searches the internet, seeing with a mix of dismay and disgust that there’s been some sort of catastrophic event in the human world. A massive attack, with hundreds dead, and blame and hate flying everywhere in the aftermath. Why do they _do_ that to each other? Are they all just inherently evil? 

_Not Stiles_ , he thinks almost defensively. He turns off the computer before he can depress himself any further, thanks Deaton, and heads downstairs to see what trouble the baby’s gotten into while Derek’s been upstairs. 

Stiles isn’t in the living room anymore, but Derek can hear him in the kitchen. If he’s trying to sneak a snack, he’s going to find himself in the punishment corner before he can blink. 

Derek rounds the corner into the kitchen and blinks in shock at what’s before him. Stiles has opened up a few of the drawers and is sitting on the floor holding a book of matches. For a moment Derek doesn’t even know how he got them, before remembering that the town was hit by a superstorm years ago and Derek had reluctantly stocked up on matches in cases the power went out and he ran out of batteries for the flashlights. 

Stiles folds back the cover of the matchbook and Derek’s vision blurs. A human is holding matches. A human has matches _in his house_. Derek almost loses control, almost shifts and destroys the threat, before he remembers himself. A roar bursts from his throat, strangled but commanding: “ _Stop!_ ” 

Immediately Stiles drops the matches and stares up at Derek, eyes wide. Derek catches his breath, forcing himself to calm down as much as possible before kicking the matches away from Stiles. There are several books lying out in a little heap. What had he been planning on doing with them? 

He grabs Stiles off the floor and marches him into the living room. Stiles is trembling in his arms. “Daddy,” he starts to whisper, but Derek cuts him off: 

“Be quiet. You have no idea…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, because there are so many ways he could: _You have no idea how much trouble you’re in. How furious I am. How scared that made me. How close I just came to hurting you._ “What you just did is completely unacceptable. I’ve _never_ been so angry with you, Stiles.” 

“I’m s— ” 

“I said _be quiet_.” The words end in a snarl, deep in Derek’s chest. Usually Stiles loves those deep wolf growls, he’ll happily lay on top of Derek and press his ear to Derek’s chest, but he realizes that this one is different. That it’s a threat. Derek can feel him straining away a little, as if he wants out of Derek’s arms, and it only makes Derek angrier. How dare he act like _Derek_ is the villain here? 

He marches Stiles to the punishment corner and sets him down. “Stay here.” 

There are tears in Stiles’ eyes. He shoots a piteous look at Sherriff laying by the couch— sometimes Derek lets him hold one toy in the punishment corner, but this time he knows better than to ask. “How l-long?” 

The longest he’s ever made Stiles stay is fifteen minutes, but that won’t do for this. He can’t think of an actual number, everything seems too short. “Until I come back.” He starts to turn, then stops and addresses the boy one more time: “If I _ever_ see you with those again, I _will_ spank you, Stiles. Do you understand?” 

Stiles looks broken-hearted and a little afraid. He nods and faces the corner, burying his face in his hands. Derek can hear him starting to hiccup out tears as he leaves the room. 

Derek returns to the kitchen and picks up the matchbooks. He puts them on top of the highest cabinet, then changes his mind and buries them in the trash. He can’t stop thinking about his family. Whenever he sees fire he imagines their last moments— the fear and pain, the bewilderment, the eventual understanding that a human had done this to them… 

What would they think if they knew Derek has a human living in his house? If they knew Derek just lets him run around, leaving him alone long enough to strike a match? 

He’ll need to child-proof the drawers, obviously. There aren’t any more matches in the house, are there? Anything that might burn? Hell, anything that Stiles could use as a weapon? 

He stops himself. A _weapon?_ What is he thinking? Stiles wouldn’t use anything as a weapon. Stiles would never try to hurt him, Stiles cries if Derek kills a spider. Last night he’d fallen asleep in Derek’s arms, clutching him tightly around the neck and contentedly sucking on his pacifier. 

Stiles isn’t Kate. He’s not pretending anything here. He probably doesn’t understand why Derek reacted that way. 

_I almost hurt him_. Derek feels the first pinprick of guilt. He hadn’t, thank God, but if it had taken him a second longer to get control of himself he might have killed the baby. That can’t ever happen again. 

Derek waits for a while in the kitchen, making sure he’s completely returned to normal before he stands. He’s been ignoring Stiles, but when he turns his attention back towards the living room he can hear gasping breaths. Stiles is still crying, so hard he sounds about ready to hyperventilate. Being punished always upsets him, but he never gets hysterical about it; that’s why Derek finally settled on corner time. It was one thing he’d never been through in any of his foster homes. 

_And_ because Derek usually stays in the room, making sure he’s all right and scooping him up in a reassuring hug once it’s over. Stiles has never once had to doubt that Derek still loves him whenever he’s punished. But this time, with the way Derek had acted before storming out of the room… 

Guilt floods him and he rushes back into the living room. He smells urine and realizes that Stiles had wet his diaper. _Shit_ , how long has he been sitting in that? He hurries over and lifts Stiles into his arms. Much to his horror he feels Stiles cringe away from him. _No, no_. “Sh,” he whispers, rubbing a circle on Stiles’ back. “I’m here. It’s all right. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He hurries to the nursery, straps Stiles onto the changing table, and takes off his clothes and diaper. Stiles is still crying silently, refusing to look directly at Derek. Now Derek is the one trembling as he carefully, tenderly cleans the baby up, putting on plenty of crème and powder before re-diapering him and getting out a fluffy pair of pyjamas. He feels helpless. 

After Stiles is dressed Derek sits in the rocking chair with him and holds him tightly. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m not mad anymore. I’m so sorry I yelled like that. It wasn’t right. I love you so much, my sweet boy. Please forgive me. Shh, shh. Daddy loves you.” He rocks, kissing the baby’s wet, flushed cheeks. 

It takes Stiles a while to calm down enough to look Derek in the eyes. His lip trembles ferociously. “I’m _sorry!_ ” he wails before bursting into tears again. 

“Shh, don’t cry. You don’t have to be sorry. I know you won’t do it again.” Derek looks around desperately for Sheriff before remembering he’d left the toy downstairs. Franklin the kitten is here, at least, nestled in the corner of the crib. Derek grabs it and pushes it into Stiles’ arms. “Here you go. And oh, sweetheart, you need a tissue.” He digs in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Blow. That’s it, such a good boy. Daddy loves his sweet boy so much.” He kisses Stiles cheek again. “No more yelling, pup, I promise. Do you understand why I was mad?” 

Stiles nods hesitantly. “I had m-matches.” 

“That’s right. Those are very dangerous, sweetheart.” 

“I was j-just making a t-tower!” 

“You have blocks for that.” Derek tries to sound firm, but not angry. “You can’t go looking for things in drawers to play with. Not everything is safe for someone as little as you.” 

Stiles’ lip is trembling again. “I forgot.” 

“What did you forget? How little you are?” It’s official, that regression is going to be happening sooner rather than later. 

“About the fire. The bad lady who burned the house.” Stiles’ voice is practically a whisper and Derek winces. He should never have told Stiles about that. “I’m not bad like her, Daddy. I promise promise _promise_.” 

“I know you’re not, my precious boy. Daddy just got very nervous because you could have hurt yourself. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. It wasn’t nice. I won’t do it again, okay?” 

Stiles sniffles and nods. “No more punishment?” he whispers. 

“Not today.” 

“No s-spanks?” 

“No. Not ever.” Derek hears a gurgle from Stiles’ stomach. “Are you hungry, pumpkin?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Let’s go eat and get Sheriff, all right?” Derek takes Stiles back downstairs and makes a bottle for him. He’s been feeding Stiles solid food for a while, but regression is still on his mind and he’d like to start treating Stiles as young as possible to get him used to the idea. “From now on, if I leave you in a room alone, you stay in that room,” he tells Stiles softly. “Okay?” 

Stiles nods and drinks his bottle without complaint. He’s emotionally exhausted and clingy after his long bout of crying, and Derek knows better than to try and put him down. After grabbing Sheriff Derek walks with Stiles around the whole house several times, bouncing him a little and humming a lullaby until Stiles is nodding off. Derek whispers reassuring words of love as he puts Stiles into his crib. He has to fight with his own instincts not to put the cover over the crib— Stiles knows better than to be crawling out in the middle of the night. 

Once the baby is sound asleep Derek goes downstairs, gets the trash bag out of the can, and takes it to the curb, even though collection day isn’t until the day after next. Then he searches the house to make sure there aren’t any stray matchbooks around. Once he’s satisfied he sits in the kitchen, allowing himself a glass of whiskey. 

Tomorrow he’ll broach the topic of regression with Stiles. The baby might be resistant at first, but Derek will convince him eventually. 

Daddy knows best, after all.


	11. Derek's Baby Boy--The Early Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've been away for so long, I figured I'd get myself back into the swing of things with a new one-shot!
> 
> This takes place during the second chapter of DBB, when Stiles was drugged on the "special" milk. From Derek's perspective.
> 
> Also, if you haven't been reading Free to A Good Home by Giggles96, you are seriously missing out. I'm obsessed. Find it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7486815/chapters/17015937

The house is quiet. It’s always quiet. But today, Derek knows, the quiet is different. It’s a contented, sleepy moment of peace, not the lonely silence of one man living by himself. Right now, the house is quiet because the baby is sleeping. 

He’s in his bassinet, two hours out from one of his bottles. They keep him napping for about five hours each time. Derek doesn’t mind the constant feedings—they’re what he signed up for, and it’s all precious bonding time. Right now, with the baby never really fully awake, that’s very important. 

Derek is working at the moment, trying to get ahead while he still can. Once the baby is awake he won’t have much time for this, it will be all temper tantrums and cuddles and bending down to watch the baby playing in his pen. 

Even with the baby asleep, Derek keeps getting distracted, needing to turn in his chair to stare into the bassinet. He just loves to look at the little boy and remember all over again that he’s Derek’s now. He’s here to stay. Every time he thinks it he can feel himself smile. 

Maybe he should get put some pictures in frames on his desk. That way he can always be looking at Stiles. At the thought he grabs his phone and turns to snap another shot of the sleeping baby. He’s uploaded dozens to his social media page just over the past day, but he can’t help himself. It’s a rite of passage. Derek has spent more time than he cares to admit lingering over posts made by other people in the community, showing their baby’s first bathtime or solid bite of food or real smile. 

The flash disturbs the baby slightly and he whines in his sleep. Derek reaches in to soothe him. “Shh,” he breathes. “Daddy’s here.” 

Stiles snuffles but sleeps on. Derek smiles down at him before uploading the photo and turning back to his work. 

By the time the baby is whimpering for his next bottle Derek has worked enough that he thinks he can safely quit for the day. He reaches back absentmindedly to rock the bassinet. “Shh,” he murmurs again as he powers his laptop down. “I’m coming, sweetheart.” 

Stiles’ face is just starting to pucker when Derek carefully lifts him out. After a day of this Derek is starting to get the hang of things. He knows now that as the formula wears off Stiles just makes faces and whines a little for about five minutes before he actually starts fussing. About a minute into the fussing is the magic moment to give him the next bottle— he’s awake enough that he can be taking in Derek’s soothing voice and warm arms, but not awake enough to panic or try to fight. 

All he knows right now are coos and cuddles and Derek’s soft tones. Some new Mommies and Daddies keep their little ones on the sleepytime milk for weeks, in the hopes that by the time they’re awake they’re accustomed to their new role. Derek doesn’t want that—he’s been looking forward for a long time to watching his baby play and soothing away his fears. But he’s making the most of these early days, to ease the baby’s transition. 

“Time for another bottle, my hungry boy,” he coos as he carries Stiles downstairs. The bottles are chilling the fridge and he grabs one out just as Stiles’ eyelids start fluttering. “Here you go, sweetheart.” 

Yesterday there had been some resistance to the bottles, but today Stiles starts to suck instantly. The constant pacifiers are doing their job. “There you go,” he murmurs as the baby drinks. “Let’s fill up that hungry tummy.” He rocks Stiles gently, watching the furrows in his forehead start to smooth out. Oh, he’s so perfect, Derek can hardly stand it. “Do you know how much Daddy loves you?” he whispers. 

Stiles’ face remains blank in sleep, but Derek hopes his words are burrowing in unconsciously. “Daddy loves you more than the moon or the sun, my sweet boy. Daddy loves you more than anything in the world, and that’s why Daddy’s going to take care of you forever and ever.” 

_And ever and ever and ever..._

Stiles’ mouth hangs open and Derek slides in a pacifier, smiling proudly when Stiles immediately begins to suck. He hums a little lullaby as he rocks the baby, a snippet of something the Society taught him. The lullabies his own mother used to sing to him were somewhat violent, as was befitting a werewolf child. Stiles needs something… a little more orthodox, to say the least. One of those light human tunes programmed to bring comfort. 

When he’d first learned them he’d thought they were stupid and insipid and he could never bring himself to sing them, but when he looks down at that innocent face they come easily. Moments like these he knows he’s going to be such a good Daddy. Well, who couldn’t be a good Daddy, with such a perfect baby to love? 

After a few moments of rocking the baby uses his diaper. Derek is very pleased to see the shots are working so well and he hurries upstairs to the changing table so his little boy won’t be uncomfortable. “No soggy diaper,” he coos, on the off chance Stiles can hear him. “Daddy will make it all better.” 

He lays the baby down tenderly and undoes the snaps of his onesie. When he’d first purchased onesies he’d favored his own tastes, primarily purchasing onesies in solid colors without a lot of frills. Something about Stiles, though, makes him want to dress the baby up in adorable little outfits with cartoon animals and sweet sayings. He’d needed to purchase onesies that fit Stiles directly anyway, so yesterday he’d loaded up his online cart with plenty of new outfits. They should be arriving tomorrow, just in time for the party with his pack. 

“All done!” he says as he finishes wiping Stiles’ privates. The baby is still sleeping deeply, and Derek figures there’s no time like the present for his baby’s first bath. 

He swaddles Stiles rather than re-dress him and walks him down to the bathroom. The baby bath has already been installed in the tub and Derek carefully straps Stiles in, being sure than his head lolls comfortably against the cushioned rest rather than snap forward. He can see goosebumps on Stiles’ skin and he quickly fills the bath up with warm water. “Let’s get my little boy all clean,” he murmurs. “All clean and fresh.” He kisses the top of Stiles’ head and starts to lather up a washcloth. 

He assiduously washes everywhere, on the off chance that there’s still some scent of the human world on him. He’s careful as he cleans between Stiles’ legs, thinking a bit grimly about just what _claims_ are lingering there. Stiles’ bloodwork came back free of any diseases, thank God, but his file said that he’d had increased sexual activity in the past year. One-night stands and drunken hookups. All part of his downward decline. 

Thank God the Society had gotten to him in time, if that was the way he was heading. Sex is a tool for corruption in the human world. Derek’s mind goes to Kate and he feels it, like a tightening inside of him, all the anger and grief… 

But no. No. He’d promised himself he would never bring thoughts of Kate around the baby. He shakes it off and gives Stiles’ privates one last swipe with the cloth. “No more of that,” he tells the sleeping baby, keeping his voice gentle. “Not for my little boy.” 

He carefully conditions Stiles’ hair to make it soft, then lifts him out of the tub and wraps him in a towel. The cold air had roused him a little and he mumbles, eyes fluttering. “That’s right,” Derek croons. “You had your first bath with Daddy. Now you’re all clean, and you smell so good, Daddy’s going to give you kisses _all over.”_ He presses little kisses all over Stiles’ cheeks and shoulders, all the way down to his tummy. Stiles mumbles again but stays under. 

Derek can’t wait until he’s awake for good, and regressed enough that he smiles and squeals when Derek kisses him. He can’t wait until he plays happily on his mat, a fist stuffed in his mouth, kicking his legs up at the dangling toys. Derek already knows he’s going to spoil this little boy to bits. He’ll be a pampered little prince. Derek smiles to himself. A little prince for the Alpha. He likes that. 

“We’re going to be so happy together,” he whispers to the little boy, who stays sleeping peacefully with his mouth hanging open, not even aware yet of everything his loving Daddy has in store.


	12. Theo's Baby Boys Sequel--Derek/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the third "chapter" in this fic!
> 
> PROMPTS:
> 
> Part of me really wants the three boys to end up with someone who will love them in the way a daddy should. Could you write a fic where Theo is killed/arrested and Derek adopts them all?
> 
>  
> 
> I wanted to ask if maybe you could write a continuation of this Theo x Stiles but with Derek. Maybe Derek goes to Theo's home to talk about alpha stuff and fall in love with little Stiles and wants it all by himself, especially when he sees how Theo treats her baby, and thinks that Theo alpha does not deserve just such a sweet baby

It’s been three months since Stiles, Scott, and Liam went missing. Derek has been searching. He’s been doing everything in his power to try to find them. But the trail keeps going cold. 

He needs another werewolf’s help. That’s the only reason he’s going to see Theo today. He hadn’t wanted to do it—Theo is a fucking creep, and he’s been practically recluse for months now. It took Derek ages just to track him down. He’s sure Theo will want some exorbitant favor for helping Derek track the missing teens, but Derek will just have to do it. He needs Theo. He’s the only werewolf that can help find the boys, and Derek needs to find those boys. 

Especially Stiles. 

Derek doesn’t know why he misses Stiles so much. He’s always thought the kid was kind of annoying and gangly and generally a nuisance. But the thought of him trapped or hurt somewhere, unable to come home…it keeps Derek awake at night. What if Stiles is dead because of something Derek did? He’s a human. He _needs_ protection. Derek should have given him that, but he failed. 

It takes him forever to get to Theo’s house. He’s in some dilapidated old place deep in the woods, barely even reachable with a car through the trees. Derek starts grumbling to himself when he’s a mile away and has to leg the rest. He can almost hear Stiles mocking him: _Yeah, what kind of weirdo wants to live in a shack in the woods, am I right, Derek?_

Oh, God, please don’t let the kid be dead. Don’t let him be dead. Don’t let him be— 

Derek stops short. He can see Theo’s house, the blinds shut tight and the front gated off. Something about it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He realizes what it is after a moment: someone is crying. From inside the house comes a deep, unending wail, like a child begging someone, _anyone_ , for comfort. 

Something inside Derek switches on, and he’s running towards the house as fast as he can. There’s no time for thought, just a sense that he has to hurry, _now_ , as though he was put on the Earth just to be here in this one moment. He leaps the gate and slams into the door shoulder-first, feeling it give with a satisfying crunch. 

There is a roar, and Theo is charging at him. Derek shifts and lunges forward to meet him. They collide in a heap of claws and teeth, tearing at each other with everything they have. Derek knows Theo recognizes him, but he’s still going for Derek’s throat. 

The screaming is continuing. It almost distracts Derek— _almost_ , but not quite. He gets Theo’s legs out from under him and pins him to the ground, roaring in his face to get him to submit. 

When he glances up again, he sees Liam, one of the three missing boys. He’s cowering against the far wall with his shoulders hunched, looking so meek and tiny that it takes Derek a second to recognize him. 

“Liam,” Theo huffs. “A-attack him. Help me. Daddy needs you to help.” 

Liam whimpers and covers his face with his hands. Derek can hear wailing still coming from the other room, and then there’s another voice: “Help! _Help!_ ” 

Derek knows that voice. It’s _Scott._

He grabs Theo’s head and twists as hard as he can, barely even able to think past the wailing—wailing that he is now sure is coming from Stiles. Theo goes limp on the ground and Derek rushes past Liam into the other room. 

Scott is tied down into a small, thin plastic chair, thrashing frantically. Past him Derek can see Stiles lying on the ground. He’s naked, with long, bloody stripes down his body, as if Theo had been slowly raking his claws over the boy. 

“Derek,” Scott sobs. “Help us, please. Help us.” 

Derek drops to his knees next to Stiles. The teen doesn’t even seem to realize that Derek is there. He’s wailing with his eyes tightly shut, tossing his head back and forth like an animal in distress. 

“Stiles,” Derek says. He feels helpless. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

“I don’t think he can understand you,” Scott says from behind him. His voice is practically a whimper. “Theo did something to him. He’s been…we’ve been…” 

He trails off. Derek turns to look at him. Scott is dressed in a tight little t-shirt with cartoon figures, and a plush item that looks almost like an oversized Pull-Up is all he’s wearing on the bottom. Derek thinks of the way Liam had been cowering against the wall, and how Theo had called himself _Daddy_. Horror fills him. 

“Stiles,” he says again. He puts his hand against the boy’s cheek, trying to be gentle. With his free hand he tries to take the pain everywhere Stiles is hurt. “He’s gone. You’re safe now.” 

“Theo’s been using his claw,” Scott says. “He kept doing it and doing it and…and I think it’s lasting longer now or something because Stiles isn’t _normal_. He’s been like…like this for a long time.” 

Stiles’ eyes finally open. He looks up at Derek. For a moment his gaze is blank, and then Derek sees some kind of recognition. “Da,” he whimpers helplessly, lifting his arms up to Derek. He hand grips the collar of Derek’s shirt. He holds on so, so tight, as if he’s afraid to let go. 

Derek feels something shift inside of him, giving way to tenderness. He lifts Stiles into his arms, finding it easier than expected to cradle him like he’s something precious. Stiles sniffles and turns his face into Derek’s chest, nuzzling a little as if he wants more comfort. 

“It’s okay,” Derek says, to Scott, still in his chair, and Liam, who has crept back into the room, and especially to Stiles, who continues to grip Derek’s collar. “I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

“I want to go home,” Liam whimpers. “Can we go home now?” 

Derek nods. He finds a blanket to wrap Stiles in and unties Scott, trying not to think too much about why he’s tied down. Scott and Liam both cling to Derek as they leave the room. Past the blood, Stiles smells so clean and soft. He keeps nuzzling against Derek and Derek finds himself lowering his lips to Stiles’ forehead gently, trying his best to comfort him. 

Theo is still lying on the kitchen floor. Scott lets out a small little groan when he sees, and Stiles turns his head to look. He stares at Theo for a second, and then his lips curve up. He giggles, looking up at Derek, like a baby delighted with a game of peek-a-boo. Derek is sure that Stiles is still in there—that he realizes that it is Derek who has killed Theo; Derek who has come to save him. Derek who will keep him safe. 

“Da,” he says again, snuggling back into Derek’s arms. Derek isn’t sure if that’s his best effort to say Derek’s name, or if he’s trying to say something else. In this moment, he doesn’t really care. 

X 

**Three weeks later.**

The phone is ringing. Derek hurries to get it, nearly tripping over the toys scattered on the floor. He never has time to clean anymore. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey.” It’s Scott. His voice sounds a little more normal now. He’s in therapy with Liam, Derek knows, slowly figuring out how to recover. He has his mom to help, and Liam has Mason. They’re going to be just fine. “Just calling to check on him. His dad is still worried.” 

“He’s…” Derek hesitates. “He’s getting better, I think. It’s just slow. Tell his dad I’m working on it. He can come over again tomorrow, if he wants.” 

“I think it’s too hard for him. He just wants to make sure there’s progress. You know.” 

“Yeah. I’m trying, Scott. There’s a lot to undo.” 

“I know that Derek. Nobody knows better than me.” Scott’s voice wavers a little, but he clears his throat and continues. “Just keep taking care of him, okay?” 

“I will.” Derek hears a cry from his bedroom and winces. “I have to go, Scott. I’ll keep you updated, okay?” 

“Thanks.” 

Derek hangs up and rushes back into his bedroom. Stiles had been napping a little when the phone rang, but Derek should have known that wouldn’t last. He can’t stand it when Derek is away. His lower lip is quivering and he lifts his arms beseechingly. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.” Derek lifts him, rubbing his back soothingly. “Daddy’s sorry, angel. Sh, sh, I’m here. Don’t cry.” 

Stiles whimpers again, but apparently decides he isn’t in the mood for a crying fit right now. He reaches for the stuffed bunny on the bed, his favorite lovie right now. Derek grabs it for him. He’s spent a small fortune on supplies for Stiles, but it’s fine. He’s worth it. 

Stiles _is_ getting better. He’s able to focus on things a little more, and he’s able to crawl around and play with all his favorite toys. Deaton thinks he should be back to normal within the next few months. He had latched onto Derek— _imprinted_ , was the word Deaton used, so everyone agreed that it would be best if Derek was the one to help him recover. 

The others come to visit, of course—Derek isn’t greedy. But it’s hard for them. Scott, his father, his other friends…they don’t see, like Derek does, that Stiles is going to be just fine. Looking at him like this only causes them pain. It’s different for Derek. He’s just fine with Stiles like this. 

“Dada,” Stiles chirrups, pushing the bunny at him. Derek takes the bunny and pretends that it’s giving Stiles a little kiss, making him squeal. He’s so happy when he’s playing. There are only a few times during the day when he seems to lose himself remembering Theo, and usually Derek can soothe him for a few minutes of rocking and kissing. 

The nights are worse. Stiles has nightmares. He’ll scream and scream for what feels like _hours_ , while Derek keeps up a litany of soft, loving words, kissing him everywhere and rubbing his back. He’d thought about building a crib for Stiles, but there’s no way the baby—the _boy_ —could function if Derek wasn’t nearby. He sleeps in Derek’s bed instead, nestled in a little pile of Derek’s blankets and pillow, whimpering whenever Derek isn’t curled around him. 

Later today, Derek will feed him a bottle of the thick formula he’d purchased online. He’ll change the boy’s diaper whenever he uses it and play with Stiles on the floor, helping him pile colors rings on top of each other and zoom little cars across the hardwood. When night falls he’ll sit in the rocking chair with Stiles and tell him a story, something with perfect baby boys and easily conquered villains and a Daddy who always makes everything better. 

Stiles yawns and smacks his lips, nestling against Derek’s shoulder. Sometimes he likes to nap like this, sleeping in Derek’s arms for an hour or so. If Derek tries to put him down, Stiles is always _furious_ —wailing and wailing until Derek picks him up and promises to never do something so mean to his baby boy again. 

Two weeks ago, he hadn’t been able to nap during the day at all without bolting awake from a nightmare, staying distressed for hours after. They’re making progress. It’s slow, but that’s no problem at all. 

“You can just take as much time as you need,” he whispers into the soft shell of Stiles’ ear. He smells so good now that there's no more pain and fear. Derek gives him baths every other nights, washing his hair out with baby shampoo. At first Stiles just sat there shaking, but now he slaps happily at the water, whimpering when Derek doesn't put in bubbles or give him bath toys. Derek always relents, of course. He can't stand to see the baby upset. “Daddy will take care of you for years if that’s what you need. And no matter where you are, or how big you feel, Daddy will always protect you. No more bad men will ever hurt you. Daddy _promises.”_

Stiles yawns again. His eyes flutter shut and he falls asleep smiling, safe and loved in Derek’s arms.


End file.
